Deducing The Sleuth
by casimchr000
Summary: Six months after Charlie (Kay) left the Avengers, and no one's seen or heard from her since. Now its May 2012, and Charlie's resurfaced in London, England with a new name (Eden) and a plan. Plan Interfere, to be exact. With her secret weapons at her disposal, what exactly does "Eden" have in store for John Watson and the Holmes Brothers? THIRD INSTALLMENT IN THE GLITCH SERIES.
1. The Favor

**WHAT UP! Sorry for the delay, life and stuff.**

**For those of you tuning in for the first time; this is a third installment in a very epic crossover of all my favorite characters! Glitch introduced my OC and her backstory, Adjusting with the Avengers showed her having a blast with the Avengers, and this one, my dear friends, titled Deducing The Sleuth, is REALLY where Plan Interfere begins! Get excited! **

**Disclaimer: Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.**

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><p>Mycroft Holmes was not amused. His day off, and with concrete plans to debrief his newest associate, all ruined because his foolish younger brother had suddenly decided he needed something; and needed it immediately. Mycroft leaned elegantly against his desk, idly listening to Sherlock rant.<p>

John Watson was most amused. Sherlock had woken up in a snit about…something early that morning, demanding he awaken so they could retrieve what Sherlock only referred to as "the files." John had stumbled out of bed and into shoes, eyes crossed from the 18 hours he'd worked at the clinic and the two hours of sleep he managed to catch before his abrupt alarm. He'd properly awoken in the cab, becoming angry at Sherlock's high handedness, before becoming resigned, mostly used to Sherlock's strange habits. He now sat in a corner of Mycroft's sitting room, bemused. It was always fun to see the two Holmes brothers square off.

Sherlock…who knew what Sherlock was thinking, he was a conundrum cloaked in mystery and sharp cheekbones. He paced the perimeter of the sitting room, snarling at Mycroft's latest refusal to his request.

"But you don't understand." He insisted hotly. "I NEED them." Mycroft rolled his eyes at the childlike whine that had erupted from his brother throat, and Sherlock, seeing this tactic was no longer working, turned to John with a swish of his coat.

"John, explain to Mycroft the urgency of this matter."

John sighed, exasperated. "Sherlock, I don't know why this matter is so urgent. I don't even know what you're asking for."

"The files, john, the files!" Sherlock stressed impatiently.

John let out a short bark of laughter. "Way to clear that up."

Sherlock growled and flipped his hair of his face. "Don't be dull. I thoroughly explained all of this last evening, in the flat. I even used a reduced vocabulary, so you would be able to understand."

"Sherlock!" John rubbed a hand down his face. He wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to be exasperated at Sherlock's inability to pay attention or angry at the insult to intelligence. He decided either way that he didn't care. Was it mentioned he only had two hours of sleep that night? "I was working last night; at the clinic. I wasn't even home."

Sherlock furrowed a brow, then his expression cleared. "it's hardly my fault if you abandon The Work in favor of menial labor, labor, I might add, that has no real point."

"That menial labor, Sherlock, pays the bills. You would do well to remember that." John warned.

"Really John? Your bringing up unwarranted financial concerns in the middle of a most important transaction? Possibly affecting my ability to properly do The Work?" Sherlock shook his head slowly. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

John threw his hands in the air and leaned back in the chair, done with the conversation. Sherlock turned back to his brother, who was already shaking his head.

"Were they even to exist, I would not just hand over classified in depth background checks on your coworkers at the Scotland Yard, Sherlock. Why don't you just deduce what you need to know, hmm?"

"The files exist, obviously, and there's one for everyone currently employed by the yard, as well, knowing how protective you are," Sherlock sneered at the word protective, "and for the fact that they've all been allowed close personal contact with myself and are still alive and employed. Just tell me what you want Mycroft. A Case? Fine. You can have a case. ONE. Or maybe something else? How about a piece of cake? No, you probably want an entire cake." Sherlock goaded. Mycroft mere raised a brow.

"It does not do to insult the person you are asking a favor from." Mycroft frowned disapprovingly, and Sherlock groaned heavily.

"Fine Mycroft. Two cases. Satisfied?"

Mycroft laughed lightly. "And why, exactly, do you even need the files? What are you looking for?" He asked, curiously.

"Answers are not on the bargaining table." Sherlock griped. "Fine. Three cases, but no more."

Mycroft shook his head. "I don't need any cases from you."

"Then what do you want?" Sherlock demanded.

Mycroft simply smiled.

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><p><strong>WHAT DOES HE WANT?! <strong>

**Stay tuned! **

**~CLC~**


	2. Mycroft's Intern

**Chapter Two what up! **

**So...I find myself having a SUPER hard time writing these boys. Could you maybe send me a review of your favorite thing about any of them? Whether that be a memory from the show or a character trait or really anything about any of them? I would SO appreciate it! **

**Now...to the story! Eden shows up! (obscure references to...things...heheheh)**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

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><p>Mycroft's favor, Sherlock grumbled to himself, was supposed to be a case. One case, maybe two, with a cake thrown in purely out of spite. It wasn't supposed to be a babysitting job. Sherlock curled his lip at the petite young woman that stood next Inspector Lestrade. She was Native American in color and studious in character; Sherlock could tell by the notebook she clutched tightly in her hand. Mycroft's favor wasn't supposed to be this "Intern" as he'd called her; and the bloody favor wasn't supposed to last an entire week before he could get his hands on the files. She was bright eyed and nervous, as she shook John's hand and greeted Sherlock with a quiet nod. Sherlock simply sniffed and ordered the young woman to a corner of the room, threatening unmentionable horrors if she dared to distract him. The young woman simply smiled and nodded, retreating to the corner Sherlock had indicated, opening her notebook and eyeing the three men silently, but eagerly.<p>

It took Sherlock less than a minute to become fully immersed in the case, and less than ten to solve it. The case itself was, on a surface level, intriguing. An entire family of five had been slaughtered in their brownstone, each family member killed using a different method, all of them murdered during the day. Once Sherlock observed the house though, the case became suddenly, horribly, dull.

He sighed heavily and shot Inspector Lestrade a dry look. "I'm consistently surprised at how your force seems incapable of using what little brain power they have, but this, Lestrade, is a new low."

Lestrade furrowed a brow. "I'm not following."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "This case is so horrendously simple, I am in shock at the inability of the yard to solve it themselves!

"Simple?" Lestrade looked insulted. "It's an entire family slaughter,"

"Oh use your brain, Lestrade; I'm quite sure you have one! Look at this place; look at the facts!" Sherlock turned to the intern, who'd stood quietly, as per her instructions, the entire time. "You! You've been taking notes, read to these simpletons what you have written down."

The intern jerked at Sherlock's sudden attention, dark brown eyes wide.

"Well?" Sherlock snapped.

The intern winced visibly. "They're not notes per say," she hedged, but Sherlock huffed and snapped at her;

"Just show us what you have!"

The intern bit her lip but did as she was bid. John and Lestrade leaned forward and Sherlock squinted his eyes.

"What is it?" John asked slowly.

"It's a dragon." The intern explained, letting loose a low, "Rawwr."

"And er, what's that by the dragon's foot?" Lestrade pointed helpfully to where he meant, and the Intern smiled a bit bashfully.

"It's a hobbit."

"What's a hobbit?"

"Enough!" Sherlock snapped, interrupting John's question. "Never mind the drawing. Were you even paying attention?"

Instead of looking cowed, as Sherlock had thought she would do, the intern simply shrugged. "I sort of tuned out after I figured out that the killer was the husband's brother."

Sherlock, Lestrade, and John eyed her curiously.

"The brother?" Lestrade considered that option, then turned to Sherlock. "You agree?"

Sherlock sniffed. "I was getting there."

John snorted, grimacing when Sherlock directed a growl at him. "How'd you figure?" John asked the intern, but she was already shaking her head.

"I'm not the consultant here. I'm just" The intern gestured to her drawing, "you know..."

"No, I would also love to know how you reached such a conclusion," Sherlock added coldly, and the interns shyness slid away, replaced with a smirked.

"Well. If you want to know; a quick look through the house tells us that the family's very picturesque; the mother used to be in pageants," The intern pointed to various pictures displayed throughout the house, "Father was a football star, the eldest daughter a cheerleader, the youngest a piano prodigy. But there are no photos of the middle child, the son, which is all explanation for how each family member died. The mother was killed with a kitchen knife, in deference to her housewife status, the eldest was killed via snapped neck, an injury not uncommon in cheer incidents; the youngest child was smothered with a pillow consistent with the way a youngest is often coddled and smothered by parents; but the middle was injected with euthanasia, you can tell by the smell lingering in the sons room, he went peacefully in his sleep, by far the least painful means of death, indicating that the killer must have sympathized with the boy, meaning he also felt ostracized and out of touch in his own family. Keeping that in mind, despite the fact that the murder seem brutal and chaotic, the house seems spotless and untouched barring the photo of the husbands family, which looks as if it was thrown on the ground and stepped on. If you observe the photo further, you'll see a family much like this one, and you'll also observe the middle son stands a few feet away from the rest of his family, nearly cut out of the frame. Add in the fact that the husband's death was the most brutal and the postcard that is ripped in pieces in the trash bin with the message, see you soon written on it and is signed Uncle Robbie, and you have yourself a killer."

Lestrade groaned loudly. "Wonderful. There's another one." He moved to find one of his detectives, and John chuckled. "That was great. Don't you think, Sherlock?" He queried with a smirk.

Sherlock sniffed. "At least someone out here is moderately intelligent enough to keep up with me."

John shook his head.

Sherlock eyed the intern more thoroughly than before.

"American." He began.

"British." She responded promptly.

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Obviously semi-intelligent and observant, well-educated from a good home, though you've been on your own for a while, you've only been in London for less than a month and you've suffered many changes throughout the past year." It was a vague assessment for Sherlock, but it was all he was capable of, which was more than a little surprising.

The intern neither confirmed nor denied, simply beginning an analysis of her own.

"Insanely intelligent, and well aware of that fact, raised in a slightly dysfunctional family, causing your current issues with social interactions and leading to a life mostly of solitude before becoming flat-mates, I would guess about six months ago with the doctor, whom is able to curb your standoffish nature but only slightly, you pretend to tolerate it though you seem to greatly appreciate him but not so for myself, whom you seem baffled by, and that angers you because its been a long time since you've been really, truly, baffled. Do not worry sir, you are not the only one I've been able to baffle recently.

Sherlock cocked a brow, well and truly impressed, irritated and slightly intrigued, in spite of himself. "Where did Mycroft find you?"

The intern laughed. "Oh no. I found him."

Sherlock thought that through, then held out his hand. "Sherlock Holmes. You'll do."

The intern smiled and took his hand. "Thanks…I think. I'm Eden. Just Eden."

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><p><strong>This chick is very well not just EDEN...what a buttface! <strong>

**Next chapter we see how Sherlock does being stuck with a baby for a full week! Does it even make it that long? Does he ever get his files? Stay tuned!**

**Favorites/Follows/Reviews are very simple ways to show/tell me how you're enjoying the story! And the mean the world to me! **

**~CLC~**


	3. Towels

**Sup Y'all! Again, sorry for the delay, this story is kicking my butt! **

**Here's chapter three...**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

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><p>It wasn't much later that Eden excused herself. When Sherlock had attempted to make a fuss about her departure, she'd sent him a look. One that silenced him.<p>

"Interns work 9am to 5pm exclusively. It's currently six fifteen and I've had enough of your shenanigans for my first day. I will see you at 9am tomorrow." She turned away, but whirled back around, finger raised warningly.

"9am sharp." Then she scurried off.

Sherlock had simply rolled his eyes and John had shrugged. Neither thought any more of their strange new intern.

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><p>The next morning Sherlock woke John at 4:30am and dragged the man on a mad chase across London in an effort to locate the brother-the killer. The chase ended with Sherlock pulling a sputtering killer out of the Thames by the scruff of his neck. John clamored out behind them, sopping wet and fuming, bemoaning his choice of flatmate.<p>

John and Sherlock were surprised when their trek out of the Thames ended in front of a perky Eden, dressed warmly in a navy pea coat that fell in flattering lines to her knees and a bright white woolen scarf. She beamed, warm towels folded neatly in her hands. Inspector Lestrade stood next to her, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. He gestured impatiently for the killer, and Sherlock imperiously pushed the man towards Lestrade, who simply rolled his eyes and carted the man away.

John grinned at the sight of the towels, reaching for one nearly immediately.

"You should always carry a spare towel around." The young woman admonished playfully, a gleam in her eye. "You never know when you'll need one."

Sherlock sniffed. There was a joke in her sentence, one only she understood, and since she didn't seem inclined to explain it, Sherlock really didn't care. He reached for a towel as well, although he didn't use it right away.

"What are you doing here?" He interrogated harshly. Instead of shying away, as most women did when Sherlock acted like a prat, this young intern just raised a brow and smirked. "I said 9am sharp."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, reaching for the waterproof pocket watch he always kept in his jacket.

It was indeed, 9am.

John chuckled at Sherlock's haughty look, and when Sherlock snapped a glare in his direction, John simply shrugged before turning to Eden.

"How did you know where we were?" He asked, interested.

Eden shrugged. "I cheated; asked Mycroft."

John nodded in understanding, and Sherlock sniffed. "I assume you shared the information with that baboon?" Sherlock sent a scathing look in Lestrade's direction.

Eden frowned disapprovingly. "You be nice to the inspector. He doesn't have to put up with you, and he does. You should be grateful to him. And yes, I did share with him. You're welcome." Sherlock's eyes narrowed, then he simply nodded and strode away. John shared a commiserating smile with Eden.

"Don't let him get to you." John reassured. "He's…"

Eden nodded slowly. "I know." And though many people would say that, not many really DID know…Sherlock was a hard man to get along with, a genius but a fool at times, and most people would never KNOW, would never understand Sherlock. But for some reason, John felt that when Eden said she knew, somehow, she really DID know.  
>"Should we follow him?" Eden asked, and John smirked.<p>

"That would be a right idea, yes." John moved in the direction Sherlock had strode off, and Eden fell into step behind him.

It was a weird feeling, John mused as he hurried to find his friend. He was so used to running after Sherlock, it was natural to him. Having someone following after him?

It was…odd.

But he liked it.

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><p>John had been sucked in. Sherlock could tell, from that very first evening, the young intern Mycroft had sent over had beguiled the man with her easy smiles and eagerness to help.<p>

Such weapons would not work on Sherlock Holmes.

But this young woman; with the bright eyes and the cheerful demeanor, she had something much more dangerous to Sherlock….her cleverness.

Mycroft had sent her. That was the first warning sign. A danger sign; but perhaps Mycroft knew something Sherlock did not.

What was he thinking? Mycroft never knew anything! Mycroft was just trying to mess with him.

Or dispose of the girl.

Who was she? An ex employee of Mycrofts, probably, sent to America to work undercover. No, born in America, the accent was too prominent to have been learned. Perhaps recruited? So she'd either failed, or Mycroft was testing her before hiring her by placing her with both him and John.

It was only for a week; Sherlock reminded himself. Were he to get too interested, Mycroft would win.

Mycroft just dropped off the most annoying employee he could on Sherlock, simply to drive him insane. There was no other such motive. That had to be it.

But there was one more possible scenario…the only other possible one.

Mycroft had sent the girl as a gift.

Not in ownage of course, that was illegal.

But Sherlock was so ridiculously surrounded by idiotic people that perhaps Mycroft was sending him the girl….as an actual intern.

It was true that there were so few clever people still around; what better than for those very few to be trained by the elite, of course meaning himself?

It would make sense…but Sherlock would not teach her until he was sure she was up to the task.

Sherlock called them tests. John called them messes. They lasted the duration of the week the intern was forced upon them, and when the week was up Sherlock would use the tests (MESSES, john would've interrupted if Sherlock had spoken aloud,) to determine if he would take on the intern for a longer term.

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><p>The lessons began that very next day. Sherlock had begrudgingly given the young woman points for not only finding them at the Thames, but bringing towels as well.<p>

"Resourceful." John had muttered as he'd wiped off his face, and Sherlock grimaced, but agreed.

On Tuesday, Sherlock had blown up the kitchen. John had been furious.

But it was for science.

That didn't seem to matter to John. He fumed, throwing things and shouting obsceneties and Sherlock pretended not to care, curled up arrogantly in his arm chair.

Truth was; John was kind of scary sometimes.

Eden had walked in during John's rage, taken one look at Johns face, and sighed.

"What did Sherlock do now?"

Sherlock huffed from his position. "Why am I always to blame?"

Eden made a face, and moved to the kitchen. She froze.

"Well….someone made a mess. Testing accelarants were we?"

Sherlock frowned. How did she know that?

Eden glanced around the kitchen before patting a fuming John sympathetically on the shoulder. "Don't worry John. The kitchen needed to be redone anyway. Consider it an early Christmas present from Mycroft?"

John narrowed his eyes. "He'll pay to fix this?"

Eden nodded, grinning.

"It'll be fixed soon?"

"By the end of the week." Eden promised.

John relaxed. "Fine then."

Sherlock watched John head back to his room, then eyed Eden assessingly, who began taking pictures of the damage and writing down things in a navy notebook she had with her.

She'd successfully calmed down John.

Impressive.

* * *

><p>On Wednesday, Sherlock had dragged along John and Eden to the office of an ugly, stupid man.<p>

Eden watched Sherlock pace, waiting to be seen, John seated calmly next to her.

"He's so….antsy." Eden muttered, not taking her eyes away from Sherlock's fidgety form.

John shrugged. "He always gets like this before an interrogation."

"An interrogation? Is that why we're here?" Eden raised a brow. John nodded. Sherlock whirled to point a finger in Eden's direction.

"YOU are not invited in. Stay here."

Eden made a face, but grudgingly agreed.

It was a few minutes later that Sherlock and John were shown in. Once the door had closed behind them, Eden caught the Secretaries eye and grinned.

The secretary smiled back nervously, and Eden moved forward to make conversation.

The "interrogation" lasted twenty minutes, and resulted in no new information. Sherlock was furious. It wasn't until the trio was settled into a cab that Eden even dared speak.

"So he didn't give up anything about the drugs he sells on the side, or the previous relationship he had with your murder victim then?"

Sherlock's head moved to slowly regard Eden's profile.

"No. He did not. How were you made aware of such information?"

Eden shrugged. "I was bored. His secretary is a really nice lady by the way. She's worked there for 13 years, and he doesn't even know her birthday. How dumb is that?"

Sherlock fumed.

But despite himself, there was another emotion, one stronger than the irritation that this chit could do what, at times, even he could not.

Once more…Sherlock was impressed.

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><p>On Thursday Sherlock took Eden to the Yard.<p>

It took less than ten minutes for the chit to befriend Lestrade, and she had Anderson crying and Donavan fuming in less than fifteen. Sherlock was surprised, and a bit awed. He'd never made Anderson CRY before!

Sherlock gave her a B+. There was always room for improvement.

* * *

><p>Overall, Sherlock could see no reason not to begin to teach the girl a thing or two. She was bright, resourceful, and had all the social graces that Sherlock lacked. But Sherlock had one more test to administer.<p>

It happened on a Friday. John was so furious afterward, he wouldn't speak to Sherlock for three days.

Sherlock didn't understand what the big deal was….

If the girl was to accompany them occasionally in the future; it was dire that she knew how to protect herself.

At the very least, that she was capable of kicking a man in the…well.

She did much more than that.

Sherlock would admit that the perp he and John had been chasing was a larger one than normal, and chasing the huge brute to the exact location where the girl was perhaps not the best idea…but had things got too out of control he would've intervened. He would've!

He was quite unnecessary.

The girl had been in an abandoned building, where John had been certain she'd be safe. Then Sherlock had chased the brute into that very building…and gotten the duo lost.

John sent Sherlock a lethal glare, and probably would've chewed him out had a shrill scream not broke the silence and sent the duo dashing for the stairs.

The brute, when Sherlock and John reached the fourth floor of the abandoned building, where they'd left the girl, was unconscious.

The girl was leaning against the wall, a frown on her face as she examined her jacket.

"Eden are you alright?" John hurried in the girls' direction, face creased in worry.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved toward the brute.

"No!" The chit snapped. "I'm not alright! Look!" Eden pulled her hand away from her jacket with a grimace, and John catalogued the large stain she was presenting him.

"Blood?" He guessed. Eden rolled her eyes.

"Yes, it's blood! He got his blood on me!" Eden's eyes widened as a thought came to her. "Am I gonna get aids?" She gripped John's arm in fear. "John, AM I GONNA GET AIDS?!"

John swallowed a smile, shaking his head. "No, you're not going to get aids. Now, are you hurt?"

"Oh." Eden shook her head. "No."

"But this one is, John." John turned to where Sherlock leaned over the unconscious man.

Sherlock turned curious eyes in the girl's direction, who looked mournfully down at her ruined coat.

"What did you do to him?"

Eden looked up, eyed the brute, and then shrugged. "He got blood on me." As if that explained how the man was unconscious and bleeding profusely, but there didn't seem to be a mark on him.

John sent a wide eyed look Eden's way, eyes speculative. Sherlock nodded appraisingly, then nodded.

She'd do.

* * *

><p>"Very well, Mycroft I'll take her off your hands."<p>

"Pardon?" Mycroft raised a brow inquiringly in his brother's direction, apparently not surprised to see him there.

"The chit. She seems intelligent enough, and I suppose I can do you the favor of figuring out what to do with her. I'll take her."

"She's not a puppy, Sherlock." Mycroft admonished. "And she's not for you."

Sherlock paused. "Are you saying you actually want her back?"

Mycroft looked mildly insulted. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Mycroft, she's green. Innocent. You and I know very well that you eat children like that for breakfast. You do not employ them."

"You do not know me as well as you think, my brother." Mycroft goaded. "And besides, you're right. I don't employ young women like Miss Eden. But I'm not her employer."

Sherlock made a face. Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You're disgusting. No. I'm her mentor, if you well."

Sherlock frowned. "So she is….your intern?"

Mycroft smiled condescendingly. "That is what I told you, did I not?"

Sherlock pursed his lips. "And when was the last time you were honest with me?"

"Your twelfth birthday." Mycroft answered promptly. "I was 19."

Sherlock shook his head. "My point exactly."

Mycroft stood, reaching for a packet of files on his desk. "Enough of your whining, dear brother. You did as I asked; you allowed Miss Eden to accompany you for one week." He thrust the files into Sherlocks unwilling hands.

"Your payment."

Mycroft turned away.

Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek. "Why did you want your intern to spend a week with me?"

Mycroft turned and cocked his head. Sherlock was convinced he would get a scathing response that in no way actually answered his question, but he was wrong.

"I believed that observing how you work would be beneficial to her studies. She's an exemplary student and has much potential, much as you did at her age. Fortunately, she has one thing you do not."

"And what is that?" Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft smirked. "A sense of humor." Then Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Apparently she's a fan of Watson's blog. She wanted to see your work in action. I believed she would be helpful to you. Was she?"

Sherlock grunted. He could not deny that her assistance was valuable. Mycroft smiled. "As I thought. Are we done now?"

Sherlock turned away with a swish of his coattails, irritated at the blatant dismissal. Then he turned away again.

"If I have need of her assistance again?"

Mycroft smirked, brow raised. Sherlock sighed. "What is your price?"

Mycroft sent a blatant look down towards where Sherlocks hand gripped the files he'd fought for.

Sherlock growled under his breath.

"You can't be serious."

Mycroft simply shrugged.

"Whenever I need her?" He bit out.

Mycroft inclined his head.

Sherlock thought for a moment. Then he snarled and threw the files down in a huff.

Mycroft smiled as the door slammed behind his huffy brother.

* * *

><p>"That went well." Eden peeked her head in with a smile.<p>

Mycroft rolled his eyes as Eden settled herself into one of his large chairs. "For the spoiled brat that Sherlock is? It went swimmingly."

Eden laughed and Mycroft smiled, a softer smile than the one he gave…..anyone, really. "Was he horrendous?"

Eden shrugged. "He was alright. Did he get the files he wanted?"

Mycroft's smile widened. "He changed his mind."

Eden frowned. "Why?"

"By the way, you'll be assisting him every so often." Mycroft changed the subject, and Eden, clever young thing she was, understood. She smirked.

"I see."

"Now." Mycroft turned serious. "I've looked into the matters you've discussed with me and I think I've prepared for every potential outcome…."

Eden leaned forward, listening intently, eyes serious. Interning for Sherlock was a vacation. Interning for Mycroft? Now THAT was where the work really started.

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><p><strong>Yay! Eden lasted the week and Sherlock wants to keep her! For...Science, of course. Not sentiment. <strong>

**Next Chapter posted immediately after this one! Whoo Hoo!**

**Reviews/Follows/Favorites are my absolute favorite! **

**P.S. I made a super obscure subtle but not subtle quote to another film one of our boys was in (a while ago). Did anyone catch it! **

**Love to you all, **

**~CLC~**


	4. A Walk with John

**Eden has a mission here, y'all...a few of them actually. Her most important mission? Getting to befriend some of her favorite "characters". And John is my favorite! Hence...this chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

* * *

><p>"Morning John!"<p>

"Morning Eden."

"Where's Sherlock?"

"That's a good question actually."

Eden paused in the middle of the flat, arms crossed. John sat in his usual chair, a cup of tea resting on the arm and a newspaper in his hands. She frowned. "He seriously tells me he needs me today, and then he disappears?" Eden shook her head. "Rude." She frowned again. Then she grinned, turning to John. "Do you wanna go for a walk?"

John slowly put his newspaper down, eyeing her curiously.

"You don't want to go looking for Sherlock then?"

Eden shook her head.

"Where are we walking?"

She shrugged.

"Why are we walking?"

Eden shrugged again.

"Right now, then?" Eden grinned.

John thought for a moment.

"Why not?"

* * *

><p>"So."<p>

Eden shot John a look out of the corner of her eye.

"So." She parroted him, a smile on her face.

The duo walked in tandem, backs straight, hands in pockets, steps brisk. They had no destination in mind, choosing simply to walk. It was an unusually cold day for May, but neither John nor Eden seemed to mind the weather, or the silence. The silence was comfortable, but Eden could tell John had questions, so with a quirk of her lips, she opened her mouth.

"My parents were both soldiers."

John shot Eden a look. He'd thought for sure that the young woman beside him would've kept her secrets close to her chest. All of Mycroft's employees did so.

Eden just smiled at the surprise she read on his face. "My dad was a surgeon, my mom a gun slinger."

John smiled. "Must've been quite the childhood, with parents like that."

Eden nodded. "It was. What about you?"

John looked taken aback.

"Two way street." Eden answered his silent question. "Sharing is caring."

"I suppose that makes sense." John relented, though he hesitated to share HIS childhood.

"Tell me anything about yourself," Eden encouraged, and John relaxed. Then he grinned.

"My first girlfriends name was Eliza,"

"Ew- I don't think I want to hear this!" Eden scrunched up her nose, pushing john lightly, jokingly. John laughed but continued. "It was in the second grade."

Eden froze, then began laughing. "Oh. It's one of those stories then. Carry on, I suppose!"

John chuckled and did just that.

* * *

><p>Later, John would be shocked by just how far and how long he and Eden had walked, but during the actual trek; Johns mind could not be bothered to keep track of time or distance, instead much too enthralled in his conversation with Eden.<p>

The topics were sporadic and lengthy but the enjoyment felt by both was genuine.

"Why did you enlist?"

John tilted his head at the interesting question. It wasn't something people felt comfortable asking, normally. He felt as though he could be honest with the young woman at his side though.

"I wanted out."

When Eden showed no shock at John's frank statement, he continued.

"I held no real desire to serve and protect, no increased loyalty to Queen and Country. I wanted to go to Medical school and I couldn't afford it. But mostly…I wanted out."

Eden nodded solemnly. "You saw enlistment as an escape. Did you regret it?"

John pursed his lips. He had never thought about that before. He thought back to his short-lived army career, to Afghanistan, to the men he was forced to send home with pieces missing, to the men he couldn't save. He thought back to when he got shot. Then he thought of all the men he'd saved.

"No."

Eden smiled. John was surprised to find that instead of sympathy or empathy, the responses he usually received from others, Eden smiled in understanding. Her words surprised him even more.

"I enlisted for reasons very different to yours."

John's eyes widened.

"You were a soldier?"

Eden's smiled had a bitter edge to it. "Not for as long as I'd wanted."

"Did you serve a full tour? How old are you?"

Eden's smile widened, became more cheery and less bitter. She winked. "How old do you think I am?"

John frowned. "Not old enough to enlist."

"Wrong!" Eden answered, laughing. "I'm twenty."

John stopped walking, surprised. "No!"

"Yes!" Eden laughed at the expression on John's face. "I enlisted right out of high school."

"Which chapter?" John asked suspiciously, continuing to walk.

Eden fell into step beside him. "Army. Special Forces. US Army," Eden clarified, and John rolled his eyes.

"Really?!" He feigned surprise, and Eden shoved him playfully.

"Shut it you. Yes, US. I was in training for 6 months, signed on for a two year term of duty, and then my military career ended."  
>John was silent for a moment. "Not by choice, I take it?"<p>

Eden shook her head. "There were….a lot of reasons that I wasn't able to reenlist again. Seven of them, in fact." Eden chuckled. "One in particular."

John waited for more information, and when none was forthcoming, grinned ruefully. "A long story, I take it?"

Eden smiled. "Worse. It's a complicated one. I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

John chuckled. "Perhaps not. But perhaps later, if you'd like, you could tell me anyway. When we have more time."

John left the "when you trust me enough," unsaid, but he was sure she'd heard it, because for a moment Eden turned serious.

"Perhaps."

The silence that followed was comfortable, each lost in their own memories of their time as a soldier, and eventually, a new topic arose.

"Were you better at English or Math?"

* * *

><p>John and Eden had left the flat at 9:30 that morning. When they arrived back at supper time, Sherlock was sulking; draped in his robe, curled on the couch and facing away. He flopped over when the duo entered the flat laughing, eyes angry.<p>

John and Eden simply rolled their eyes and ignored him, John sliding off his jacket and hanging it up before surprising Eden by hugging her tightly.

He let her go with a smile.

"Thank you for the walk. And the conversation."

Eden grinned back. "Anytime.

Sherlock huffed.

Eden smirked. "Bye Sherlock!"

Another huff.

John chuckled. Eden waved as she headed out.

"Bye Eddie." John responded with a similar wave.

Sherlock shot John a frown.

"Eddie?!"

* * *

><p><strong>Soldier bonding time AND a nickname! Yay...I love papa!John and Partner in crime!Sherlock! You got some of the former and the latter is coming! <strong>

**and Mycroft too! **

**I'm so stoked. **

**Reviews/Follows/Favorites are sooo appreciated! **

**You guys are awesome!**

**~CLC~**


	5. Lessons

**Sup! Chapter Five, Here you go!**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

* * *

><p>"Hey John!"<p>

"Eddie."

"Good. You're finally here."

Sherlock leapt up from where he'd been reclining on the couch, and Eden sent him a surprised grin. "Oh! You're here!"

John chuckled lightly from where he sat at the kitchen table.

Sherlock frowned. "I live here."

Eden shrugged. "Well, yeah, but the last three times you've called me over you haven't been here."

Eden narrowed her eyes as a thought came to her. "Was that on purpose? Because you just didn't want Mycroft to have me?" She crossed her arms.

Sherlock sniffed. "Perhaps." Eden rolled her eyes.

"What do you want?"

Sherlock grabbed his jacket and scarf. "It's time to begin your lessons. Come along."

Eden frowned worriedly. John slowly lowered his paper and began to stand.

"Not you! Sit." Sherlock pointed warningly at John, who looked surprised. "Stay." Sherlock emphasized. "Eden…Come."

Eden crossed her arms. "We're not puppies."

Sherlock raised a brow. "Is that why I'm training you then?"

John hid a smile. Then he frowned.

"You mean just Eden right? With that…training bit? I don't need to be trained."

Sherlock smiled placatingly. "Of course you don't. Finish your tea. We'll be back by supper." And Sherlock was gone.

Eden looked at John pleadingly, but John just shrugged and resumed his seat. Eden grimaced for a moment….then she grinned.

"Speaking of puppies….how do you feel about pets, Sherlock?!"

Sherlock's answer was loud enough for both John and Eden to hear. It was not an appropriate answer, but Eden giggled anyway as she hurried out of the flat.

John shook his head.

Eden was young, and headstrong. At times she seemed so…serious, and mature, but then she would giggle or make a face, and John would be reminded of the conversation that they'd shared almost a week ago, when she told him she was only 20.

She was an adult; but too young to be alone.

Though the Holmes brothers; however amusing they may be, and whatever insights and lessons they might be able to teach her; they weren't the best father figures for a young woman.

He supposed that Sherlock and Mycroft could be the mentors, and He could do the parent routine.

It's what he did with Sherlock already anyway.

Eden was a mysterious young woman; but oddly enough, John found that she seemed to fit right in.

John hoped she stayed for a while.

In other words; John hoped Sherlock did not scare her away.

* * *

><p>The first lesson that Sherlock demanded be taught was to him; a simple one.<p>

Eden found it immensely frustrating.

Sherlock had marched away from the flat, and Eden had followed a few steps behind; admiring of the scenery and not at all bothered by Sherlock's moodiness. He'd led her to a local park and stationed himself in a hidden alcove between two trees; mostly hidden but with a good view of the park.

Sherlock seated himself on the bench, and Eden had curiously settled herself beside him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Sherlock finally inclined his head in the direction of an elderly man and woman.

"Tell me everything you know about them."

Eden looked surprised, but began to study the couple.

After a short time Eden sighed.

"They're married."

Sherlock raised a brow.

Eden shrugged. "That's all I got."

Sherlock sighed heavily, his breath visible in the cold of the morning.

"I didn't think you were this dull." He goaded.

Eden rolled her eyes. "Well congratulations, for once in your life you were wrong. I am very dull. I am just a normal person who can do normal things."

Sherlock watched her for a moment, then looked way. "I don't believe that."

"Why?" Eden turned her body so she could face Sherlock more directly. Her brown eyes were bright with confusion. "Why can't you just take my word for it that I am a normal person who's lived a normal life and just wants to CONTINUE living a normal life?"

Sherlock grimaced. He had the feeling he was about to say something entirely sappy.

"I see none of that when I look at you." Sherlock met her gaze head on. "When I look at you I see someone extraordinary."

Eden smiled, ducking her head. Then she turned back to the couple.

"They've been married a while. I can't give you exact years, I'm not you," She shot Sherlock a look and he inclined his head slightly in understanding, a small smirk on his face that widened as she continued. "But a while. They've probably spent most of that in London, they're very familiar with this park; in fact, they come here every day. You can tell they follow the same path because they don't follow the original path and there's no hesitation in either one of their footsteps when they turn. They've had kids, but no grandkids, they walk by the playground more wistful and reminscient than empathetic, meaning their kids are old enough to have kids. Or maybe their kids just don't live nearby enough for them to see their grandkids? Not sure on that one. The man was in the army, from the way his wife's arm rests on his elbow I would say world war two, which means American? They're originally American, then! Perhaps they came here to retire, and left their kids in the US. Erm…..I think that's all I got."

Sherlock nodded slowly.

"Passable."

Eden lifted a fist to the air. "Yuss!"

Sherlock let out a small huff of air. She never responded to his critiques the way he thought she would.

The way everyone else did.

That was one of the largest reasons that Sherlock had finally agreed to teach her.

She treated him differently.

"You can deduce, but slowly. Your process is scattered as well as slow, and you've missed a few important details."

"What?" Eden asked eagerly, and Sherlock shook a finger.

"You must observe more methodically than you do. You're adept at seeking clues and finding them, but you have no direction when you do so, and no discipline."

"So….I need to observe with direction and discipline?"

Sherlock nodded. "Precisely."

Eden made a face. "Which means what?"

Sherlock turned back to the couple.

"The first rule is unless you are forced to interact with them the moment you see them, never start with the face. If you don't have the opportunity to observe discreetly, start with the eyes but never the full face."

Eden nodded slowly. "Okay. So if I DO have the opportunity for discreet observation, where do I start?"

"It will be tempting to start with the most obvious clues. Don't do that."

Eden nodded. "Discipline."

Sherlock smiled. "Exactly. There are four main tells in an individual. The shoes, clothing, hands, and face.

"Why those four?"

Sherlock nodded approvingly at the question. "Shoes give away location, clothing gives away character, hands give away history, and face gives away intention."

Eden thought that through. "So with the couple…"

"You start with the shoes. They're used, but of a very good quality, serviceable.

"Which means financially stable, or wealthy but frugal." Eden added. Sherlock paused, but continued. "

The man's shoes are scuffed to a nearly blinding shine."

"Hints at Military." Eden spoke up. Sherlock raised a brow. "The shoes are clean, the leather looks reinforced for rain, though there hasn't been any in three days,"

"London is notorious for rain. He's a native."

"And the woman's shoes?"

Eden narrowed her eyes.

"Expensive, in good condition but the style is outdated. She's wealthy but thrifty. Her shoes carry a decent amount of support, and are made to withstand the rain. That confirms everything we've gathered about the man's shoes."

A pause. And then… "Excellent. Let's go."

Eden made a face. "But…all we did were the shoes!"

Sherlock raised a brow. "And all we WILL do are the shoes until you've mastered that technique. Only then will we continue."

Sherlock stood, straightened out his coat, and strode away.

Eden rolled her eyes, but followed.

* * *

><p>Some of the lessons were enlightening. Others made no sense.<p>

"You want me to….what?"

John was off working, for once, and Eden had shown up that morning to find the entire flat in a horrifying state of disarray.

"Do. Not. Touch. The Floor." Sherlock enunciated slowly, perched onto the side of the overturned couch.

Eden, to her credit, paused only for a moment before she made a mad leap for a nearby, also overturned, chair.

Sherlock nodded approvingly. "Touch the floor and you die." Then he too made a large jump, landing regally on a strategically placed cushion. Then he smirked wickedly. "And don't let me catch you." Then he jumped, headed for her chair, and she shrieked and jumped away.

She may or may not have cheated….But Sherlock would have no reason to think so; and no reason to believe she "could've" done so.

When Eden was safely out of harm's way, she grinned.

"Lava Monster huh? You should be made aware that I am a pro at this game. I played it a lot when I was younger."

Sherlock let a scary smile overtake his face. "So did I."

John was not happy when he arrived home from work to find the flat in utter chaos.

He was less happy when Eden reluctantly explained what the two had been doing all day.

"You make a mess of the entire flat in order to play a child's game?"

"It was a lesson," Sherlock rolled his eyes, and John growled. Used to be, the excuse was "It's for science, John." John had a feeling that excuse was going to change as the lessons continued. Eden's grinning face and Sherlock's disheveled appearance though made him loathe to be too angry at them.

"We'll clean it up when we're finished, I promise." Eden smiled brightly. She shot a look Sherlock's way. "Or, I will."

John shook his head, waved his arms in exasperation, and gave in. "Fine. But I wanted this finished before you two eat supper."

Eden nodded eagerly and Sherlock sighed.

John turned away.

Great. Now he had two kids instead of one to scold.

He was not overly surprised to find that he didn't mind as much as he let on.

* * *

><p>It was during the third week when Sherlock found that Eden could teach Sherlock a thing or two as well.<p>

Sherlock and John had been chasing a rogue murderer when Eden had jumped into the fray by shooting him in the leg. She'd accomplished this from where she stood on the roof of a nearby building.

Not three minutes later; Charlie was tackling the perp to the ground, sitting on him until John ran forward to haul the man up to his feet.

Sherlock panted, scarf twisted wildly from his run, coat open and flapping, eyes wide in confusion.

"You….That's impossible."

Eden paused, eyes wide. Then she grinned. "Is it?"

"You can not have possible traveled from the roof of that building all the way to this alley without us seeing you and in less than three minutes."

Eden laughed. "Couldn't I?"

"Actually no." John stared curiously at Eden as well.

Eden smiled smugly. "Can you forget logic, and science for just one second? I want to show you something."

Sherlock nodded rapidly.

And Eden disappeared.

John and Sherlock shared a look of shock, and John moved quickly to the place where she'd just stood, dragging the perp behind him and moving the hand not gripping the perp by the neck slowly in the spot she'd just been. Sherlock whirled around to make sure she wasn't hiding anywhere. She was completely gone. Then John and Sherlock just stood and stared at each other.

It was five minutes later and with a gust of wind that Eden reappeared, cheeks pink and eyes bright.

John gripped her arm, and when he was certain she was solid, stepped back with a frown. "Where?"

"At the station. I informed Lestrade where you were and that you have caught the murderer."

Sherlock tilted his head?

"How?"

Eden smirked. "Magic."

Sherlock shook his head. "Magic isn't real."

"Isn't it?"

Sherlock and John shared another look.

Wasn't it?

* * *

><p>As Sherlock began to teach Eden, Eden began to open his eyes. With her ability to do what she could, the world that Sherlock believed to be so cut and dried black and white, turned into a spherical mass of shape and color and depth, and soon, nothing was impossible. As Sherlock taught Eden, Eden taught Sherlock, and John as well.<p>

And the Lessons continued.

* * *

><p>As almost summer turned more fully into summer; Eden began to learn to a certain extent how Sherlocks mind worked and how to best utilize her own brain. Depending upon the case load, Sherlock would imperiously demand Eden's presence two to three times in a week; for various lessons ranging from history lessons to chemical experiments. More often than not Sherlock's lessons would take the entire day, and John would insist Eden stay for supper.<p>

At times, Sherlock was jealous of the easy camaraderie that John and Eden shared. They seemed to be things for each other that he could be for neither of them. Eventually though, he would come to realize that while it was true, he himself could be things for both of them that no one else could be. The three of them were as different from each other was physically possible, but they fit with each other all the same.

Although It took two months before Sherlock would call Eden by her name.

It took another month before Sherlock would begin to use the nickname John had given her.

That was when everything started to go downhill.

* * *

><p><strong> Go downhill?! That doesn't sound good. <strong>

**Next chapter kinda angsty! But also funny! **

**Review/Follow/Favorite...They make me so HAPPY.**

**Love to you all,**

**~CLC~**


	6. Uncle Myc and Politics

**AHHH! I know...I'm sorry!**

**I got another concussion (#3 for anyone keeping track) So I had to take a break from writing and internet and life, then the holidays, then school started, but I'm BACK!**

**Happy 2015 y'all!**

**Here's Chapter Six for y'all, a funny, slightly angsty, plot developing thing of beauty. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, we are NOT going to show up at Mycroft's home at one in the morning just to get Eddie's address."<p>

"But I NEED it."

John rolled his eyes as he pulled a jumper over the tight t-shirt he'd worn to bed. "And why can't you get it in the morning?"

"Because I NEED it."

John sent a glare Sherlock's way. The stupid prat was fully dressed of course, and waiting impatiently for John to get clothed. John paused as a thought came to him…and he frowned.

"Once you get her address…you're going to wait to contact her until a reasonable time, right?"

Sherlock fidgeted.

John crossed his arms. "You are NOT waking Eddie up in the wee hours of the morning."

"But I need her MIND, John."

"She's not going to have one if you make her sleep deprived, Sherlock. I'm not going with you if you're going to wake her up."

Sherlock growled and flounced into the kitchen. John stayed where he was, arms crossed, face solemn. A few minutes later Sherlock flounced back in, a disgruntled expression on his face.

"Very well. I will wait until a reasonable time to show up."

John raised a brow and Sherlock huffed. "I promise."

With a small grin John finished dressing. "Alright then. Let us go disturb Mycroft's slumber."

Sherlock smirked. "Because it doesn't matter if he's sleep deprived?"

John chuckled, following Sherlock out of the flat. "Exactly."

* * *

><p>"Mycroft I have need of…what are you doing?"<p>

Sherlock froze; John nearly running into him and jerking his head to the side so he could see what had surprised Sherlock so.

Mycroft stood in an awkward pair of basketball shorts and a loose gray t-shirt, in front of a treadmill that was randomly placed in the middle of Mycroft's bedroom. His arms were crossed and he glared hatefully at the machine in front of him. That glare was redirected to Sherlock.

"What." Mycroft drawled resentfully. "Are you even doing here?"

Sherlock seemed at a loss for words, still staring confused at the exercise machine.

It was John that answered. "Sherlock would like to inquire as to where Eddie is staying."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and pressed a few buttons on his phone. Then he returned to staring at the machine hatefully.

"What." Sherlock frowned. "Are you even doing?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes but did not respond. Sherlock did NOT respond well to being ignored, and he subconsciously adopted the same position as Mycroft.

John swallowed a chuckle. It was nearly the same expression too.

"Do you even know what that does?" Sherlock goaded, and Mycroft scoffed.

"Do not mock me, brother dearest."

"Yeah, what Myc said!"

Sherlock and John whirled around to see Eddie, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She wore sleepwear; black sweatpants and an oversized white t shirt. Her hair was crazy, a dark curly mass around her face. Her stern demeanor broke as she lifted a hand to rub her eyes wearily.

From 20 to 2, John mused with a small smile as Eddie's face went from cross to sleep to cross once more.

Then John frowned.

"What are you doing here?"

It was Eddie's turn to frown. "I live here." John's eyes widened, and Eddie turned to Mycroft with exasperation. "Why are you glaring at that thing again?! I only made you go for fifteen minutes yesterday!"

Mycroft sniffed. "I do not like it."

Sherlock snickered. "Do not tell me you actually attempted to use that thing."

Eddie turned to glare at Sherlock. "Leave him alone. What do you want?"

Sherlock straightened, then sent a raised brow in John's direction. John sighed heavily. Then he waved a hand in defeat. Sherlock's eyes brightened.

"There is this case, my dear, that I believe you would find most intriguing…."

John collapsed on a loveseat, Eddie and Sherlock moved to contemplate motive and means, and Mycroft continued to glare menacingly at the treadmill in front of him, oblivious to anything else.

* * *

><p>It took Sherlock three days to fully comprehend what he'd seen that evening…and he was not happy. Eden was not allowed to LIVE with Mycroft...that meant Mycroft got to see her MORE. And that wasn't fair! SHERLOCK was supposed to see her more. He made his unhappiness clear to all participants, but both Eden and Mycroft didn't have the time to deal with his tantrum…. They had more important things to deal with.<p>

* * *

><p>"So….I kill him?"<p>

Mycroft sighed heavily and Eden threw down her pencil with a huff. "Shut it, Myc, I was a soldier!"

"You are no longer in the battlefield, my dear, you cannot just kill everyone who displeases you."

Eden rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Otherwise you'd already have bled out from the slash to the arteries I'd have gotten you with hours ago."

Mycroft pursed his lips, and Eden wilted. "Fine. Shut up. What do I do then?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes and leaned forward.

The two were in Mycroft's study, Eden sprawled on the couch and Mycroft signing away at his desk. It was how Eden spent her Tuesday mornings when Sherlock DIDN'T demand her presence. In lessons with Mycroft.

Mycroft lessons were nothing like Sherlock's who taught her to observe and solve. Mycroft instead taught her social niceties and political maneuvers. The lessons were invaluable, but unplanned.

If asked, Mycroft would be unable to tell you how he'd gone from never being at his estate to not wanting to leave it.

He blamed Eden.

The young thing was….if he were to be sentimental; a second chance. She was clever; much like Sherlock had been, but without all the issues Sherlock had gone through at this age. She listened to him, and better? She wasn't adverse to being around him.

But he would tell you none of those things.

He would tell you the relationship with Eden was one of mentor and mentee. Which would not be a lie. It was just….deeper than that, now.

And to think, it had all started in a seedy bar.

* * *

><p><em>Flashback:<em>

_"Eden" as she'd now named herself, finally paused. She'd blurted out everything she'd wanted to say, before he "MYCROFT" could interrupt or stand up and walk away, and now she had no more words. She'd played all her cards…all at once. It was his move now._

_Mycroft sighed. "You are either insane,"_

_Eden nodded promptly in agreement. Mycroft shot her a look, and Eden paused, then shook her head slowly. He sighed, then continued._

_"or you're an enemy." Eden made a face._

_"OR…you're a potential ally with information that could be detrimental to me."_

_Eden shrugged._

_"I'll check what you've said, and I'll be in touch."_

_Eden nodded. "I look forward to hearing from you."_

* * *

><p>Mycroft contacted her a month later; hours after a certain pool explosion had made the news. A few months after that she lent her assistance in relocating an individual (one that Eden was VERY happy to never have to meet) to Australia. It was six months to the day, when a few other predictions that Eden had told Mycroft of had come true, when Mycroft requested her temporary relocation to London so she could be on hand to deal with any….other situations that had the potential to arise.<p>

It only seemed convenient to have her reside with him. Then it just seemed; she was there, might as well teach her a thing or two. Then Sherlock wanted a favor, and he supposed she could do with some insight from him, and then he and his brother were on slightly better terms because of her and he found himself….fond of the girl.

"Your industry is on the brink of opening," Mycroft began, clearing his head of his memories and turning once more to the task at hand; detailing the scenario he'd invented for Eden to her once more. "But one man stands in your way; the building inspector. He plans to fail the building you've just renovated on its most recent inspection, purely because he knows what you plan to do with it and he disproves. What, besides killing him, do you do?"

Eden sighed, sitting up. "You mean besides doing it the easy way? I would find out why he's so against my project, and do what I could to level any complaints he has and persuade him over to my side. I know I COULD get as much dirt on him as possible and blackmail him into approving," Eden shot Mycroft a dark look, "But no thanks."

Mycroft smirked. "All three scenarios are plausible. The second one is the only option that aligns with the silly motto you've chosen though."

Eden shrugged. "I'm doing everything aboveboard. You know that. Besides, didn't you say earlier that it would be better to alienate as little people as possible, especially those in the working class?"

Mycroft inclined his head. "So you do listen."

Eden smiled. "Periodically, I suppose."

Mycroft shook his head, a smile on his face as he turned back to his paperwork. Eden pulled the laptop she'd neglected back onto her lap with a grimace.

* * *

><p>The two worked in silence for over an hour. Then Eden sighed, pushed her laptop away from her, and plopped her head into her hands, staring at Mycroft curiously.<p>

"Myc."

"Don't call me that."

Eden smirked. "You know you love it. Can I ask you a question?"

"You mean another question?" Mycroft raised a brow as he looked up from his work. Eden rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Go ahead."

"We haven't talked about Moriarty in a while."

Mycroft's eyes slowly closed, and his hand shut his laptop. He inhaled deeply, then opened his eyes.

"I can't keep him locked away, my dear."

Eden frowned. "But you know what he'll do when he gets out. I told you what will happen."

Mycroft shook his head. "And if we don't let him out his organization will live on, through his name if not by his leadership."

Eden sighed heavily. "So we can't keep him locked away. Fine. But letting him go? That's suicide!" Eden winced at her own turn of phrase. "You know what I mean."

Mycroft huffed. "Well we don't exactly have any other options."

Eden's eyes widened. "The whole reason I've told you everything was so you could CREATE a new option! And you're telling me you're just going to stick with the old ones….even knowing what's coming?"

Mycroft said nothing, and Eden's hands clenched. "That's madness." Her face twitched in agitation, but she did her best to stay calm. "Mycroft…."

"You cannot let Sherlock jump."

Mycroft held Eden's gaze, and she barely blinked, eyes bright. "You can't."

Mycroft let the silence linger, then spoke softly. "It's the best choice."

"And who thought that up?" Eden jumped up. "Who told you that your brother plummeting to his death was the most logical choice? Whoever told you that needs to be fired!" Eden's face turned red as she huffed and snarled. "You forget; I saw the way this option goes down; what it does, and how it hurts everyone involved. No one is spared, Myc. Not you, not John, and most assuredly not the apple of your eye, your genius baby brother." Eden turned to face Mycroft. "There were riots in my time. People rebelled. AND IT WAS JUST A TV SHOW."

"And from what you've told me they did the same here; but to our benefit. And Moriarty's organization falls as well. Without granting Moriarty's freedom, without Sherlocks "plummet," as you so delicately put it, his organization will stand. And another Moriarty will take his place."

Eden went pale and her knees gave way as she plopped inelegantly back on the couch. She sent one last pleading glance Mycroft's way. His heart clenched. "Isn't there….anything else we can do?"

Mycroft hesitated. "I think you should go and talk to him."

Eddie's eyes widened. "Me? Talk to…Moriarty?" Eden laughed harshly, then sent Mycroft a bewildered look. "You're serious?" He nodded, and she began shaking her head furiously. Mycroft sighed heavily. "If you do not go and speak to him; we're going to let him go."

Eddie stood from the table she sat at with Mycroft, and turned away. Mycroft watched her shoulders rise and fall quickly, as she debated internally. Then she did something surprising. She screamed…long and loud and shrill and it wasn't a pretty sound but Mycroft didn't move, though at the moment he wished he could join her. Her hands came up to fist in her hair and her knees hit the ground as she lost the capacity to fully stand.

And still Mycroft did not move. Eden stayed down for five, ten, fifteen minutes. Then she stood, slowly, heavily. When she turned to face him Mycroft did nothing to reveal the surprise on his face.

But surprised he was.

Her voice was hoarse as she spoke.

"I can't stop this, can I?"

In that short amount of time that Eden had allowed the grief to overcome her, it was as if she'd aged ten, twenty years. Her face was set in grim lines….she'd finally realized what he'd wanted her to acknowledge since the very moment she'd introduced herself to him at the American banquet.

That life…wasn't fair.

"I can't prevent the madman from acting out his plan, or keep Sherlock from jumping or John from breaking. It's all going to happen, and I can't do anything to stop it."

"Did you really expect such an outcome?"

Eden shrugged, listless. She had.

"I've done it before. I saved a lot of lives, I changed a timeline. I thought I could do it again, with this."

Mycroft stood. He approached her slowly, the way he would a cornered animal. His hand moved to find purchase on her shoulder, where he gripped her comfortingly.

Her gaze, so solidly on the floor until that moment, raised to make eye contact with him.

"You have made a difference, and you can continue to."

Eden scoffed, eyes wet. "Really?"

Mycroft nodded, once. "Your presence is comforting to John, and exciting to Sherlock. And you have made sure I'm prepared. The timeline might not change, but the people have. And you've done that."

Eden let out a watery smile. And Mycroft pulled her into a hug.

It wasn't a long hug. But it WAS a hug. Eden pulled away after a long moment, with a genuine smile that turned into a determined expression.

"Let him out. But give him back his phone."

Eden moved out that night. And Mycroft did as she'd instructed.

* * *

><p>He was free. The older Holmes was no match for his intellect, for his cunning…for his own unique brand of crazy. The old duck had caved and let him go, armed with enough ammo to have fun for….well, days if he played his cards right.<p>

And even better? Sherlock. Oh that delicious brain of his inside that tall, pale, interesting package…what fun it was going to be to poke and prod the poor dear until he despaired, went spare, and maybe, if he were lucky….jumped?

An ominous ringtone emanated from his phone, and He frowned. The Holmes' lackeys had changed his ringtone?

The unlisted number that appeared on his phone screen was no more an issue that a broken nail would be. He would have the caller's identity and entire life history in less than sixty seconds.

The text was expected. Another Holmes lackey, no doubt, attempting to distract him….or perhaps keep tabs on him? Foolish notions, both of them. Did that old man not yet realize who he was dealing with?

But then the unlisted number became an issue; when no information on the caller could be found.

None?

That was impossible. Before he could stop himself, a reply had been penned and sent. Not ten seconds later, with another ominous sound, a sassy written retort appeared, and He growled, typing out a furious response. But then he froze, and deleted everything he'd just penned.

Was it….?

But another response proved his first hypothesis wrong.

What was this? If not Sherlock himself, then who? Another fan of Sherlocks?

Five texts came in short succession, ending the conversation abruptly but leaving Him strangely gleeful.

Fate had brought him a new playmate.

A clever one, at that.

One potentially as entertaining as Sherlock.

One potentially MORE entertaining than Sherlock.

And a complete mystery to boot?

It was better than Christmas.

* * *

><p>UNLISTED: Well that was a shorter stay that I expected. How was solitary confinement?<p>

JM: Who is this?

UNLISTED: Now, while I agree that the older Holmes hospitality leaves much to be desired, it can't have been that much of a trial.

JM: I am not overly fond of repeating myself.

UNLISTED: I mean, I'm pretty sure that armful of insider knowledge on a certain consulting detective that you left with was one pretty consolation prize.

JM: You are also a fan?

UNLISTED: Of Sherlock Holmes? He is a brilliant man, I suppose, but too easily swayed by….lesser things.

I am no fan of Sherlock Holmes.

He is simple.

I am, however, a fan of Yours.

You'll be hearing from me. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Well. <strong>

**Miss Him? **

**I know I DID! **

**One reason I had such trouble getting this up in a timely reminder was because of the last part...I wanted HIS voice to be uniquely his...those of you who have seen the show; I wanted it to be clearly obvious who was speaking, that it could be no one else speaking, and that voice took time to develop. I'm still not too sure about it! But I feel good about it. **

**We also get to see a kind of Eden/Charlie/Kay crossover; where all sides of her interact with Plan INTERFERE; and how Mycroft helps her see not only the futility in her plan, but also how she's still doing something worthwhile; if not exactly the way she'd wanted. You're also going to see Eden mature; almost overnight. Because in a way; she has. She's learned a lot from Mycroft, and that knowledge has, and will change her. **

**But enough seriousness! Plot is developing, our arch nemesis has been name dropped (or texted?) and we will begin to see a developement to the story that will lead us to (sob) the end! But never fear! It's not really the end, is it? It's only the beginning! **

**Next Chapter will be up soon. Hint Hint? It's called WOOF. **

**I do love you all.**

**~CLC~**


	7. Woof

**Happy Sunday!**

**Here, for you, is Chapter 7! **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

* * *

><p>Sherlock Holmes was very frustrated. He was ten seconds away from deducing someone to death, when he saw her.<p>

John Watson was slightly worried. Sherlock could become frustrated with the best of them, (he was human enough in that aspect, at least,) but John had never seen Sherlock fail so abysmally when attempting to gain entrance somewhere. He was moments away from pulling rank to get them in when Sherlock stiffened and his face went carefully blank. John frowned, brows furrowed, then he followed Sherlock's line of sight…and grinned.

"I believe our other associate has already been granted access to the premises. And how displeased she would be if she knew you kept us from joining her." Sherlock threatened with a toss of his head.

The cadet in front of Sherlock frowned.

"You mean Mycroft Holmes' intern?" He clarified, and Sherlock sent the boy a grim smile.

The cadet paled so fast Sherlock was momentarily worried that the boy would pass out. But then Sherlock and John were ushered in, the cadet bursting full of apologies and Sherlock couldn't help a small quirk of his lips at the success.

"Well." Sherlock's eyes narrowed as John chuckled.

"What?" He snapped.

"I've never seen you fail so badly before." John shrugged. "Thank goodness for Eden's name."

"Yes." Sherlock said slowly, eyes narrowed. "Thank goodness."

Sherlock and John followed the man in front of them, and suddenly John's easy pace changed. He stiffened and Sherlock smiled. John must've reached the same point he had minutes ago.

"Wait. What is Eddie doing here?"

Sherlock quirked a brow. "My thoughts exactly."

* * *

><p>"Miss? Your associates are here." Eden frowned as she thought over that statement, then froze as she realized that she had granted herself a cameo role in Season Two, Episode Two….purely on accident. The split second it took her to realize that had her face smoothing into an approving nod.<p>

"Wonderful. Send them to me. I require their assistance immediately."

* * *

><p>Sherlock had one setting when it came to entering a room; and that setting included the swishing of his coattails and the whipping off of his scarf. It was very dramatic.<p>

And even more prissy-looking in person.

Entirely ignoring the dark haired snob, Eden shot John a warm smile. "He's kind of ridiculous, isn't he?"

John grinned in greeting. "You have no idea."

Eden laughed, shaking her head. "How do you put up with it?"

John tilted his head. "Well, quite recently I've found that I've a smart young intern I can laugh about it with."

Eden flushed. Well. John was one of her very favorites….and he'd just said something nice about her….Inwardly Eden squealed like a baby. Outwardly, Eden just smiled warmly and shook her head. "An intern huh? She's sounds awesome. You should keep her."

John chuckled. "Well, actually that's the plan."

"She might get fired if she doesn't cease with this silly conversation and focus on something much more important….ME." Sherlock stressed with an eye roll.

Eden and John shared one more look before Eden turned to Sherlock. "Of course your highness. How could I ever ignore you? Whatever can I do for you my liege?"

Sherlock frowned. "Tell these buffoons to allow me full access."

Eden crossed her arms. They'd given her a lab coat and paired with her dark jeans and white shirt, she looked every inch the professional. It was Sherlock and john who looked the outcasts, Sherlock was very well aware that his fate rested in the hands of this teen. He grimaced. "Please."

Eden narrowed her eyes, then shrugged, turning to face the other occupants in the room. "My associates are to have access to any and all areas." She ordered, voice suddenly stern and authoritative. The men in the room snapped out salutes, although one of the lab coats frowned.

"But the rules?" He protested.

Eden shrugged. "If they break any rules, remove them. Otherwise, leave them be." The lab coat that had spoken nodded timidly, and an officer stood to lead the two men wherever they wished.

Sherlock inclined his head in thanks. Eden reciprocated the move, then waved brightly at John, who chuckled and returned the wave.

Eden shook her head as she turned back to her task at hand. She needed to pay attention if she wanted to open her own science institute in America. Nonetheless a small part of her brain racked her memory for the name of the hotel John and Sherlock stayed at during this episode. Maybe she could go bug them more once she was done with her task?

* * *

><p>Eden regretted her next move the second she made it.<p>

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!" Eden winced from her hiding spot, behind John's chair in front of the fire. She tried to make herself as small as possible, and settled in to wait. She knew what was coming.

"We're looking for a dog, yes? A great big dog, that's your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien. Good, excellent, yes. Where shall we start? How about them - the sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman? The answer's yes.

"Yes?" John asked confused.

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for." John sighed.

"Sherlock, for God's sake..."

"Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economize on his own food.

John tried to reason with the crazy man. "Well, maybe he's just not hungry."

"No, small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean. She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him, he'd have as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right, and not well off - you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes."

Sherlock began to imitate John: "How d'you know she's his mother?" He snorted. "Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an older sister, but mother's more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive - fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help."

Because John didn't seem inclined to participate in the conversation, Sherlock imitated John once more: "Widowed?" Then he answered his own question. "Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain round her neck - clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well-dressed but her jewelry's cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it - sentimental. Now, the dog: tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact, it is a West Highland terrier called Whisky."

And because he was on a roll; "How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?" Sherlock's voice became snippy; "Because she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening, I use my senses, John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact I've never been better, so just LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The silence was filled with Sherlock's heavy breathing. When John answered, his voice was light.

"Yeah. Ok. Ok." He shifted in his chair. "Why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend."

"I don't have FRIENDS." Sherlock snapped.

"No." John's voice was quiet, short. "Wonder why." Then he left.

Sherlock breathed heavily, and Eden took that as a sign that he was currently in his right mind, and thusly able to retain what important advice she felt free to give him.

She slid up so that she stood behind John's recently vacated chair, rested her forearms on the back of the chair, and sent Sherlock an easy grin.

"Sup."

Sherlock glared.

Eden shrugged. "Three things. One:" she held up a finger. "You should be nice to that dude. He's one in a million, and he cares." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but his shoulders, which had been resting somewhere up by his ears, relaxed. "Two;" A second finger was added to the first, "when I say be nice, I mean like, don't drug him. You don't drug people you care about." The look on Sherlock's face darkened, and Eden hurridly continued to her final point. "And three; why is that wreath heart shaped?"

Sherlock frowned and looked up; the wreath pinned atop the fireplace was indeed heart-shaped….odd. When he turned back to speak with Eden, she was gone. Sherlock frowned had rested his chin on his steepled fingers. As inopportune as her appearance had been. She'd made some good points.

Well….ONE good point.

* * *

><p>That next morning, when Sherlock had plopped a coffee down in front of Eden, she was surprised, and wary. But then Sherlock smiled.<p>

"In thanks for your advice last evening." Eden nodded slowly…then beamed.

"You listened!" She drank the whole thing….and promptly agreed when Sherlock invited her to accompany them back to the lab.

She should've been MORE wary, and she regretted it later that day when her head was pounding and she'd just made a fool of herself, screaming and running about; shouting about a beast chasing her.

Sherlock simply huffed when he noticed she was glaring at him. "What?"

"I thought you heard what I said last night?" Eden complained harshly.

Sherlock sniffed. "I did. You said I should refrain from drugging those I considered my friends."

"Exactly!" Eden exclaimed. "And then you went and….oh." Eden frowned. She pointed a finger in Sherlock direction. "That's rude."

Sherlock just shrugged.

"And I will have my revenge!" She warned.

Sherlock smirked. "Should I be afraid?"

Eden just smiled. "What do you think?" She hopped up, sent him a wink, and walked away.

That would keep him on his toes….and when she told John what Sherlock had done to her… "for science" John was going to blow a gasket and he would punch him in the face FOR HER.

Yeah, Sherlock should be afraid.

* * *

><p>Eden made her way to the hotel. It was time she left. She just had one more thing she wanted to do before she took her leave…..<p>

"Hi! I haven't met you yet, I'm another associate of Sherlock Holmes. I'm not here about the case or anything, I just had a quick question….do you perhaps have a twin? Or maybe someone in your family who looks exactly like you? Maybe with the name…Alonso?"

* * *

><p>UNLISTED: Am I interrupting?<p>

JM: I always have time for you. I haven't heard from you in months, though. Bored?

UNLISTED: I am surrounded by buffoons, all hours of the day…boredom does not cover it.

JM: Just now noticing the general lack of intelligence in the world, then?"

UNLISTED: Oh no.

I find normal people have a measure of entertainment all their own.

No; I am literally surrounded by buffoons. The London zoo is full of them.

JM: Located in London, are you? I find it quite boring to stay in one place…although London isn't as boring as most.

Although lately the city has fallen in its entertaining values….

Perhaps I should do something to change that?

UNLISTED: Anything worth doing is worth doing right.

JM: Indeed.

What do you suggest?

UNLISTED: It's always best to make a splash; it's not just about being successful, it's also about making it a SHOW.

JM: Why…I do believe you are correct.

UNLISTED: Of course I am.

JM: And so modest.

UNLISTED: Did you expect anything different?

JM: I hold no expectations where you are concerned.

UNLISTED: Smart.

JM: I know.

UNLISTED: You'll be hearing from me.

JM: I look forward to it.

* * *

><p><strong>Yass! Hounds was fun to write; and I really wanted to include SOMETHING about the actually series! I didn't want to change too much up though, which is why it is purposely vague. <strong>

**PLEASE READ: For those of you following this story as a part of my GLITCH series, I have just now begun posting a little side story; It's what Charlie keeps herself occupied in between the tellings of Adjusting with the Avengers and Deducing the Sleuth. For those of you who are fans specifically of the Avengers... you should really check out this new story. It not only gives you an insight into what Charlie is doing; (Which is A LOT) but you get to see one of my VERY VERY FAVORITE'S appear. The story is called...BUCKY. (heheheh) **

**Reviews/Follows/Favorites brighten my day like no other! **

**I LOVE YOU ALL**

**~CLC~**


	8. Solving Sherlock

**Hello Loves! **

**Here is chapter number 8!**

**I hope you like it! (I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!) **

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

* * *

><p>"Hey Sherlock! Whoa…what's wrong with you?"<p>

Eden bustled into Sherlock and John's flat with an easy grin that bled into a frown when she saw Sherlock despondently sprawled on his couch.

Sherlock sighed, heavily and slowly.

Eden rolled her eyes and took stock of the situation. "Hmm. Where's John?"

"Gone." Sherlock spat with a snarl. "Medical conference."

Eden frowned. "He never mentioned he was leaving."

Sherlock rolled over so he could send Eden a grimace. "It was a spur of the moment thing. He'd originally decided not to go, then all of a sudden said he wasn't a babysitter, and that there were plenty of other people I could annoy, and then he just left!"

Eden put a hand on her hip. "You must've been very rude to him."

Sherlock huffed again, but his eyes darted to the left and Eden sighed.

"Yup. As I thought. How long is he gone?"

Sherlock pouted. "Three days."

Eden nodded, then shrugged. She pivoted on her heel and began to march away, and Sherlock jumped up. "Wait! Where do you think you're going?"

Eden narrowed her eyes. "To go bug Molly. Why?"

Sherlock nodded once, slowly. Then he nodded again, much more decisively. "Ah. Good. I'll go with you."

Eden opened her mouth to protest, but Sherlock was already out of the flat. Eden grimaced, then gave up. He'd get bored eventually and flounce away…right?"

* * *

><p>Except he didn't.<p>

Sherlock puttered about, (read: slid body parts into his jacket pockets,) while Eden interviewed Molly about her job, and when Eden eventually bid Molly farewell to head to Lestrades' office…Sherlock followed.

He ended up interrupting Eden's lunch with Lestrade, her tea with Mycroft and her shopping excursion. Finally, with a sigh, Eden addressed her shadow.

"Do you not have some sort of case you can be working on?"

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Dull."

Eden frowned. "So you're following me around because…you're bored?" When Sherlock just raised a brow, she thought harder. Then she smiled. "Or is it because…you're lonely?"

Sherlock scoffed, but his eyes shot to the right…and Eden's smile turned into a smirk.

"Right then. Come along."

Sherlock stood uncertainly for a moment; then hurried to fall in step with her. "Where are you off to now?"

Eden shot him a grin. "You said John won't be home for three days?"

Sherlock nodded slowly.

"Well…That just means we have three days in which to have all sorts of fun WITHOUT John."

Sherlock thought that through…then he smirked.

"Then….have fun we shall."

And have fun, they did.

* * *

><p>When John called two days later to inform Sherlock that he was going to stay just "a few days longer," nary a tear was shed, nor a tantrum thrown. Sherlock was much too entertained to waste any time on tantrums!<p>

For Sherlock and Eden…were "experimenting."

* * *

><p>"No Sherlock!"<p>

"Yes Eden!"

"But wait…I don't even think this is physically possible!"

A snort. "Come now…You're being a coward. Just do it."

"I am NOT a coward Sherlock…I was a soldier."

A grimace. "You. Coward."

"Sherlock, knock it off. I've only ever glitched alone."

"But you've taken objects along with you?"

"Well…yeah."

Sherlock made a face. Then her gripped Edens arms.

"Eddie. You are the brightest young woman I know; and you have an extraordinary gift, one you've been growing in exponentially." Sherlock smiled slightly. "I believe in you."

Eden beamed. "Okay. She reached for Sherlocks hands. "But don't blame me if you end up splinched!"

Sherlock frowned, but he was given no time to retort because only a moment later, they were no longer in London.

* * *

><p>Sherlock sent a cursory look around, then grimaced. "America." He concluded with a grimace.<p>

Eden shot him a dirty look. "Be nice. I live here." Then she grinned.

"I live here…I did it!" Eden pumped a fist, and began to hop around. "I'm amazing!

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Congratulations."

"Uhhhh…"

Sherlock turned to eye the half-naked man in surprise.

"You have a roommate?" He asked surprised.

Eden grinned. "Yup. Two of them, actually."

Sherlock sent her a look out of the corner of his eyes. "Does the other one wear more clothing than this one?"

Eden laughed. "Yes, Sherlock."

"Uhhhh….." The man tried again, and Eden took pity on him.

"Sherlock this is my roommate Clint. Clint, this is Sherlock Holmes."

The man's face brightened in understanding. "Oh, right. One of the brothers you're working with." Eden nodded. Clint made a confused face. "How'd you get here?"

Eden grinned. "I glitched."

Clint nodded slowly. "How'd he get here."

Eden grinned wider. "I glitched him."

Clint's eyes widened. "You glitched him…with you?"

Eden nodded happily, and Clint broke into a wide grin.

"Whoa! That's awesome Kay!" Clint grabbed Eden into a big hug and swung her around. Eden returned the embrace with a laugh.

Sherlock coughed.

Eden sent Sherlock a raised brow.

"Do you often hug half-clothed men?" He inquired.

Eden smiled and let Clint go. "Well, I'm not about to making a habit of it, if that's what you're thinking."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, then turned slightly to observe "Clint".

"You're an archer." He spoke suddenly.

Clint smiled in surprise. "Yep."

Sherlock nodded, satisfied.

Eden rolled her eyes. "Is the other one home?" She asked hopefully, and Clint shook his head.

"Nah. Took Washington for a walk."

Sherlock squinted.

Eden saw it and clarified. "Washington's my dog."

"Ah. How…Patriotic." Sherlock answered delicately, and Clint and Eden shared a look, then burst out laughing.

"You have no idea." Eden spoke when she'd calmed down.

Eden sent Clint one last parting smile. "Tell him I'll see him tonight." Clint nodded with a grin.

"And go put some sort of clothing on." Sherlock demanded.

Eden rolled her eyes. She sent Clint a wave, grabbed Sherlocks hands once more…and a moment later they were back in London.

Sherlock shot her an indecipherable look, and Eden made a face. "What?"

"You live with two men?"

"Yeah. So what?" Eden asked defensively.

"Nothing. I have no need to care about who you live with. But someone might."

Eden's eyes widened. "You are NOT going to tell John" She demanded, then squinted. "...are you?"

Sherlock sniffed, eyes bright. "I might be persuaded to keep such information to myself. If…"

Eden made a face. "Alright. What do you want?"

Sherlock grinned.

* * *

><p>"This is dumb."<p>

"Did you expect anything less?"

"What is even the point of this?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Eden shot Sherlock a breathless, incredulous look.

Sherlock shrugged apologetically. "It's an experiment."

Eden huffed and focused on running. She was NOT a fan of the treadmill.

"How much longer do I have to do this?" She asked a few minutes later.

"Not sure yet."

Eden groaned but kept running. They'd made a deal.

That didn't mean she had to stay quiet.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"What does the name Moriarty mean to you?"

Sherlock paused. "Did Mycroft bring up that name?"

Eden smirked. "You're avoiding the question."

"What does that name mean to you?" Sherlock avoided once more.

Eden furrowed her brow as she ran, deep in thought.

"To me- that name is a mystery. One I'd rather have nothing to do with, but that's only because I know what consequences truly understanding that name carries. At the same time," Eden sighed heavily. "The man has an underground organization so destructive that if it's not taken out completely…well." Eden huffed, decided she was done running, and hopped off the treadmill.

Sherlock unfolded himself from the chair he'd curled himself into in order to better watch Eden run, adopting an open posture…he was going to be honest with her.

"He's a dangerous man Sherlock Holmes. You know that already." Eden reached for a towel. "But so are you. Which you are also aware of." Eden quirked a smile. "And if anyone can stop him…you can."

Sherlock stared at her, fascinated with her. He'd known her for months….and yet he felt as if he knew nearly nothing about her. Even odder was the fact that Sherlock didn't really seem to mind.

"I cannot live without the work." He spoke frankly. "It is too much a part of me to abandon. I never will; I don't want to. But," Sherlock shot Eden a look that said everything and nothing, all at the same time. "I have more recently found that there are other things to occupy my time." Here Sherlock shot a telling glance towards John's empty chair, and Eden smiled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And yet the addiction remains; for the most part under my control but always present, and at times unbearable unless quenched. And Moriarty…." Sherlock's eyes took on a faraway gleam that Eden had expected but wished away all the same. "Moriarty is my next case. Perhaps my most important case of all."

Eden nodded in understanding, and for once, Sherlock was absolutely certain that she really DID understand him.

"No one's asking you to ignore the case." Eden made a face. "I'd thought about it…before."

Sherlock quirked a brow and Eden shrugged. "I didn't know you then…I thought I did; but I was wrong. The person I thought you were wasn't real. He doesn't exist…he's fake…a character, if you will." Eden laughed at her own joke. She turned serious once more, leaning forward. "But you…you are real. And I know you. Only you can solve the puzzle that is Moriarty. I believe you can….that you are the only one who can. Just…don't forget the people who care about you." Eden's phone pinged and she checked it, then grimaced.

"There's more people out there who care about you than you think there is." Eden smiled a little sadly, turning away to deal with her phone, and Sherlock frowned.

Eddie made him think. And he just wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

Only time would tell.

* * *

><p>"Oh good, you're here." Sherlock looked up from his current experiment, trailing off confused, staring in Eden's general direction.<p>

Eden had appeared in Sherlock's flat a good hour ago. She'd entered and promptly fallen face first onto his couch, and he'd ignored her entrance, too deep into his experiment to even look up and greet her. He'd finally reached a decent pause point, and addressed her brightly, eager to tell her what he was doing….but to his surprise, she didn't move when he spoke. He moved then, to hover uncertainly by the couch. Still she did not move, so he crouched down, and finally, with a grunt, Eden rolled over so that she faced him.

Sherlock recoiled.

She looked…awful. Dark bags sat heavy under her eyes and her brow was furrowed in pain. Sherlock laid a hesitant hand on her forehead, but he drew it back quickly. She was burning up.

"Eden?" Sherlock spoke urgently, and Eden started.

Eden was tired…so tired. But Sherlock needed something. His voice was faint and distant, but she knew it was him, and she fought to open her eyes, but they wouldn't obey her.

"Hmmm-what'dya need?" She struggled to sit up, her eyes at half-mast, too heavy to lift fully, and then cold hands were gently pushing her back down and Eden found it so much easier to just obey them…

The next thing she knew someone was trying to feed her, but whatever it was was AWFUL and she spit it out,

And then she was being lifted; moved, onto a bed, maybe?

And then she was mumbling; the pain too much, the heat unbearable, and someone was patting her head awkwardly…

And then someone was screaming and she wished they would just shut UP, her head was killing her, but then she realized it was HER that was screaming, and then she heard another voice yelling,

"I don't KNOW what's wrong with her, that's why I'm calling YOU-" and then, "Well, DO something about it!"

And then it was hot, so hot, and then there was a cold washcloth on her forehead and soothing hands, and then new hands, familiar hands, and she turned towards them, and then a low voice spoke-

"It's going to be fine, dear. You're going to be fine."

And Eden relaxed.

* * *

><p>The next thing Eden remembered she was being fed soup that DIDN'T suck, and then she was sleeping again, but this time, peacefully.<p>

When Eden next awoke, she could open her eyes, and felt better, and she was surprised by the sight before her.

She was in a bed- Johns? And on one side of her bed slept Sherlock, sprawled in the arm chair from the living room. On her other side, with perfect posture even in his sleep, sat Mycroft. Eden frowned. Then she heard the door open, and she knew exactly who it was. She hopped out of bed and ran to the living room, beaming.

John turned when he heard her coming, a smile lighting up his face, arms opening.

Eden squealed loudly as she hugged him. "Welcome home John!"

John chuckled deeply, squeezing her tight. "It's good to be back."

* * *

><p>At Eden's squeal both Holmes brothers woke, eyes meeting in the same moment.<p>

The two assessed each other, and Sherlock sent the first insult.

"I didn't know you could cook." He grumbled waspishly.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "It was soup, Sherlock. Anyone can make soup."

Sherlock glowered. "It's not THAT easy."

Mycroft sighed, a small smirk on his face. Then he frowned. "Why did you not call me to come fetch her the moment you found out she was ill?"

"Why come yourself when you could've easily sent a doctor?" Sherlock countered.

Mycroft pursed his lips. "And my greatest weakness is revealed," he spoke lightly, seriously."Because I care about the girl, Sherlock. And you." Mycroft raised his brows. "You sounded panicked."

Sherlock stood. "I wasn't." He strode towards the door, then paused. "But perhaps the question you just asked me has an answer similar to the one you gave me." He spoke stiffly.

Mycroft winced. It was as he'd suspected. "Caring is not an advantage, Brother."

Sherlock whirled around. "So you may care, but I cannot?!"

"On the contrary Sherlock, were you not distracted, the mere fact that you show any level of emotion would have me…ecstatic."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "I'm not distracted."

"Aren't you?" Mycroft countered. "You haven't asked for a new case in WEEKS, Sherlock, so busy you've been with MY intern. The inspector was worried when you stopped in a few days ago and took no files with you when left. I'm worried, Sherlock. The work is suffering."

Sherlocks hands fisted at his sides. "And if I don't care?"

Mycrofts face went blank, and it was all the answer that Sherlock needed.

"Do not worry brother." Sherlock mocked. "I am not simple, I know how much my unwavering dedication to the work makes you look good. Heaven forbid I let you look worse than you already do." Sherlock did an about face, leaving one last parting remark before he made his escape. "Worry not."

Mycroft shook his head as he watched his brother flounce off. "Worry not? It's much to late for that." Then Mycroft tilted his head. "But it's not you that I'm worried about."

With one last glance at the bed Eden had just vacated, Mycroft took his leave.

Eden was right. No one would be left unscathed….by any of this.

Least of all himself.

* * *

><p>UNLISTED: It has been drawn to my attention that a recent buffoon escape from the zoo coincides quite nicely with our last conversation.<p>

JM: Does it now? Fascinating.

UNLISTED: Boredom does not look good on you.

JM: I agree…shall I go pay our favorite Holmes brothers a visit then?

UNLISTED: The Holmes brothers…they are dull.

JM: No longer interested in the most entertaining mammals to walk this side of the continent? Barring the two of us, of course. That does not bode well for you.

UNLISTED: It does not. You see not what I see, unfortunately.

JM: Which is what?

UNLISTED: The Work….nothing holds you back from it. You live, eat, and breathe The Work. There are no distractions for you. Except for one.

JM: Nothing distracts me!

UNLISTED: On the contrary. One thing distracts you. Just…one. Unlike the very many things that distract the Holmes brothers….feelings, feuds, people. They are weak.

JM: I am not?

UNLISTED: You are weak. They are weaker.

JM: You speak of distractions. The only one I see here is you.

UNLISTED: You aren't incorrect about that.

JM: I'm not incorrect about much, as a matter of fact. And as far as I see….I am distracted by nothing.

UNLISTED: Not even Sherlock Holmes?

JM: I am NOT distracted by SHERLOCK HOLMES. HE is distracted by ME.

UNLISTED: I do not deny that.

JM: HE is the weak one! I AM NOT.

UNLISTED: Are you so sure about that?

JM: I AM POSITIVE YOU LITTLE WRETCH. I AM NOT WEAK. I AM NOT BORED. I AM NOT DULL.

UNLISTED: I never said you were dull.

JM: BUT YOU DO NOT BELIEVE ME, DO YOU?! YOU ARE NOT CONVINCED, ARE YOU?!

Fine.

I will prove it to you.

UNLISTED: ….I eagerly anticipate your next move.

Check.

* * *

><p><strong>So...subtle Harry Potter reference (anyone catch it?!), Sherlock and Eden being fun, Sherlock and Mycroft caring, Eden antagonizing the villian...good times, right? <strong>

**AND CLINT HALF NAKED WHAT UP! **

**Anyway...Hopefully the next time I post I'll put up the last three chapters all at once...Which should hopefully be Wednesday. YAAAYYY. **

**I love it when the Holmes Brothers have feelings...I can't help myself! **

**PLEASE READ: ****For those of you following this story as a part of my GLITCH series, I have just now begun posting a little side story; which shows you what Charlie is up to between the tellings of Adjusting with the Avengers and Deducing the Sleuth (you will notice there is a six month gap not accounted for...its accounted for now!). For those of you who are fans specifically of the Avengers... you should really check out this new story. It not only gives you an insight into what Charlie is doing; (Which is A LOT) but you get to see one of my VERY VERY FAVORITE'S appear. The story is called...BUCKY. (heheheh)**

**Reviews/Follows/Favorites are my favorites!**

**My love to everyone of you! **

**~CLC~**


	9. Moriarty in an Alley with the Cookie

**Chapter Nine!**

**And the beginning of the end is here... :(**

**Let's go!**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

* * *

><p>SH: I Know you have her.<p>

SH: What do you want?

SH: IF YOU HURT HER…

SH: WHAT DO YOU WANT.

* * *

><p>JW: This isn't just Sherlock you're messing with now. You think you've seen me angry? You've seen nothing yet.<p>

JW: She's just a kid. Would you really….i forgot who I'm talking to.

JW: I'll enjoy shooting you in the face.

* * *

><p>MH: This is your play?<p>

MH: Bad choice.

MH: You've just started a war.

* * *

><p>Eden was late.<p>

Her day off had turned into a party that didn't end until 9am the next day; and by the time she had returned to the apartment and charged her phone enough to check her messages, it was 10:30 in the morning and she had over 60 messages from her London trio.

In a rush she'd glitched to Mycrofts home only to realize that they were at 221B, and in her haste, she completely forgot her ability to glitch and hailed a cab. The sleek black car that pulled up to a stop in front of her wasn't a cab, but assuming it was Mycrofts, she got in anyway.

When the black car pulled into an abandoned alleyway, she realized her mistake.

Well…might as well go with it.

She was dragged from the car and tied to a chair, and left to wait.

She didn't have to wait long.

* * *

><p>"Well, well well."<p>

Eden made a face.

"I should've known it was you."

Moriarty froze. His eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry. Have we met?"

Eden froze. "No." She relaxed. "But I work with Mycroft. You really think I haven't heard of you? Everyone who works for Mycroft knows your name."

"Everyone PERIOD knows my name." Moriarty rephrased with a smirk.

Eden rolled her eyes. "Right of course. How could I have forgotten?" She eyed the alley with a confused look. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your…wonderful hospitality?"

Moriarty smiled smugly. "I've been bombarded with messages about my having kidnapped you. Realizing that I had no idea who you were, but interested by the anger in which I received just by being accused of participating in your disappearance made me more than enthused to make your acquaintance. You're the intern."

Eden raised a brow.

"That I am. Congratulations. Do you want a cookie?"

Moriarty tilted his head. "Yes I do."

He shot a look to the nearest thug, who lumbered off.

"Wait. Is he getting you a cookie?"

Moriarty shrugged.

"You can just look at someone and they'll go get you a cookie?! That's a perk of being a consulting criminal then?" Eden laughed. "That's it. I'm in. Totally just switched sides!"

"You're going from good to bad because….we have cookies?"

Eden shrugged. "People have switched sides for much less, my friend." Then she laughed.

"What?!" Moriarty snapped.

"I'm coming over to the dark side…because they have cookies!" Eden laughed harder, and Moriarty frowned.

"I don't get it."

Eden shook her head. "It's an inside joke. You wouldn't get it."

Her phone went off, and Moriarty's eyes widened. Then they narrowed.

"That's…an interesting ringtone you have there."

Eden gulped.

* * *

><p>"Mycroft! Her phone is back online."<p>

Mycroft nearly flew to Sherlock's side, who stood by the window in 221B, violin clutched tightly in one hand. Sherlock tossed over his phone, and Mycroft began flipping through it anxiously. He held it to his ear. When it began to ring, he sighed in relief, then hung up. He texted a number on his phone and returned the phone to Sherlock's hand.

"Text her again in two minutes. You should get a reply text with her location."

John stood in the doorway to the kitchen, hands clutching two mugs tightly, eyes wide and worried.

Mycroft nodded reassuringly. "Once the message arrives, we'll be on our way."

John nodded tightly. "Hold on Eden." He murmured under his breath. "we'll be there soon."

* * *

><p>"Are you like their pet?"<p>

Moriarty's voice was civil, light, and Eden worried.

"I wouldn't describe myself that way…exactly." She answered warily.

Moriarty smiled brightly.

"Because I think you're they're PET. I thought John was a pet…but he's not as dull as I originally assumed, not if he can keep Sherlock occupied and away from his rightful partner…ME. "John" Moriarty snarled. "He's an emotional thing, but he was a soldier…so that makes him slightly interesting. But you? You can't be anything more than a PET….and people will only miss their beloved pets for so long before they get a replacement. You know what that means?"

Eden frowned. "I can do cool tricks?"

Moriarty laughed. "Oh you are entertaining….I can see why Sherlock might've found a passing interest in you…No." Moriarty turned suddenly serious. "It means I can kill you without any lasting repercussions."

Moriarty pulled out a gun and Eden's eyes widened.

She realized then that it would probably be a good time to glitch out, and so she tried….

But she couldn't.

She couldn't glitch away. She was trapped in an alley with a madman with a gun….

She was going to die.

Eden sat up straight and sent Moriarty a glare.

Moriarty grinned.

"Is your life flashing before your eyes?"

He asked nicely.

Eden curled her lip. "It wouldn't be the first time. Are you going to put that thing to use or just wave it around like a baton?"

Moriarty frowned. "You're sassy." He smirked. "I doubt you'll be very sassy with a bullet in your head."

Eden shrugged. "Probably not. Why don't you quit playing around and find out?"

Moriarty pouted. "Well now you're just being no fun. Maybe I should."

Eden raised a brow. "I'm waiting. Performance anxiety?"

Moriarty snarled and strode forward, pushing the gun into Eden's temple. "NEVER."

Before he could pull the trigger though, Eden's text tone went off once more.

And the gun at Eden's temple moved away.

* * *

><p>"Mycroft! It came in!"<p>

Sherlock threw the phone to John, who was closer, and John eyed the address on the screen before handing it to Mycroft. Sherlock was swirling his coat on and John was checking his weapon for ammo.

Mycroft nodded at the phone screen. "It's close. Come on."

"Sound familiar?" Eden saw an opportunity and took it.

Moriarty sneered. "You stole that text tone from someone. Who?"

Eden smirked. "You really want to know?"

"You give me a name…now!"

"Why so interested in a simple text tone?" Eden asked innocently.

"It can't be you…" Moriarty muttered. "It CAN'T."

"You know you're quite the emotional texter…. I was a bit surprised by that."

"Shut UP you child," Moriarty hissed, but Eden ignored him.

"And you were so easily distracted by my words….when was the last time you really piqued Sherlock's interest? It HAS been a while, hasn't it?"

"You are a LYING little-"

"and you are a fool!" Eden spat. "How Sherlock could even find you even the slightest bit interesting is beyond me…I saved him from your cloying advances, and you took to my bait easily enough."

Moriarty paused.

"So that's what this is about."

Eden paused. Her angry expression fell away in her confusion. "What?"

"You pretending to be interesting, it was all to save Sherlock from me?"

Eden frowned. "No. I…don't know what you're talking about."

Moriarty laughed. "You were PROTECTING him….because you CARE." He laughed again, and Eden shook her head.

"You're wrong."

"You're not interesting." Moriarty shook his head. "You're ordinary…ruled by your feelings."

He turned away, musing. "I should kill you…Just to put you out of your misery." He turned back to her, an evil grin on his face. "But I'm not that nice. I have a better idea."

Eden cocked a brow, nervous…waiting.

"I'm going to leave you alive….." Moriarty leaned close, voice low. "I'm going to make you watch. I'm going to kill your spirit…and you're going to watch Him kill himself."

Eden closed her eyes, not even having to ask who "Him" was.

When she opened her eyes….Moriarty was gone…and a cookie rested precariously on her knee.

That cookie kept her transfixed until a familiar voice had her slowly looking up.

* * *

><p>"Eden!" John ran forward to untie her, Sherlock and Mycroft eyeing the alley for enemies. But it was empty. They strode forward once the coast was clear, and Eden fell into John's arms, dry-eyed. John clutched her tightly.<p>

"Are you hurt?" Sherlock spoke stiffly.

Eden looked up, serious. "I'm not hurt."

"You are a fool." Mycroft chastised softly.

John glared at Mycroft, but Eden laughed bitterly.

"Agreed." She answered shortly.

Mycroft softened, would've said something reassuring then, (he WOULD'VE) but Eden pushed away from John and stood on her own two feet. She stared at the three of them steadily, but she looked fragile, brittle. As if any misstep would have her crumbling. "Let's go." She demanded, wanting to speak no further of what would be dubbed "The Incident."

Unable to deny her anything in that moment, the three men did as she'd instructed.

She said nothing on the way home, too lost in her thoughts.

She had a bad feeling, one she couldn't escape, that she'd just ruined everything.

No one noticed the small cookie trapped in hand.

And no one noticed the cookie crumble the harder her hand clenched.

* * *

><p>He'd been distracted.<p>

By a CHILD.

Worse… by a PET.

That would have to change.

It was time to begin the frontal assault.

This PET would not stand in his way to get to Sherlock.

Nothing would.

* * *

><p>JM: That was fun.<p>

Let's do it again sometime.

UNLISTED: Let's not.

JM: Check.

Mate.

* * *

><p><strong>"The Incident." <strong>

**Wow...Two more chapters and then on to the next one! **

**I'm stoked. **

**But sad. **

**Reviews/Follow/Favorites are enjoyed!**

**Love to you all on this Monday!**

**~CLC~**


	10. The Discussion

**Chapter 11 for you all!**

**This one's sad... :( **

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

* * *

><p>From the very first conversation, held in the back booth of a seedy diner, Mycroft and Eden had been on the same page. Because of where Eden had come from, she'd been gifted with the rare opportunity to view Mycroft, and Sherlock and John as well; first as abstract characters, and then complex ones before she was ever introduced to them as living, breathing, unscripted individuals. Because of that, Mycroft felt (and knew) that she understood him in a way that no one else could, or ever would, again.<p>

The silence between them; in the six months they'd been acquainted, had never been awkward, their conversation never stilted.

But on that day, a Tuesday for once, Eden sat noticeably still, face carefully blank, hands clenched tightly together in her lap. "What are you saying?" She asked stiffly.

In the safety of his pockets, Mycrofts hands fisted, and Mycroft had to force them to relax. He watched Eden's pale face in the reflection of his office window, too cowardly was he to turn and face her directly, to make eye contact for this difficult conversation.

This was why one should never care.

"I believe this season is coming to its…finale, if you will."

Eden's gaze snapped from her lap to stare at Mycrofts back. She took a deep breathe.

"If-" She had to pause to clear her throat, and Mycroft chocked down the pain in his chest to the beginnings of a heart attack…obviously. "If this has anything to do with my run-in with Moriarty," She began, but he interrupted her.

"I'm so glad you brought up The Incident," He began. "You see…the event's that transpired do, in fact, worry me, that were you to…continue on your current path, that you would disrupt the carefully planned timeline that has already been put into motion."

Eden's lower lip trembled and Mycroft had to consciously stop his body from recoiling at that obvious sign of distress, the way it so wanted to.

"So…I'm a distraction?" Her voice was quiet.

Mycroft closed his eyes. Then he spoke.

"London is no longer in need of your services."

Eden nodded woodenly, unsurprised. This was not a new emotion…she'd felt this way before. She stood robotically, and found herself in front of Mycroft's office door without having made a conscious decision to leave. She paused before she left though, and turned, a split second decision relaxing her face into a smile.

Mycroft, were he a lesser man, would've cried at the open look of genuine like on Eden's face. The last time he'd cried, he was six months old.

But oh, how he wanted to weep in that moment.

"I am so thankful, Myc, for everything." She winked. "Don't forget to run: everyday."

And she was gone.

Mycroft allowed himself 60 seconds. He plopped rather inelegantly down in his office chair, thumped his forehead down onto his desk, closed his burning eyelids, and breathed deeply. When those 60 seconds were over, Mycroft straightened, pulled a new file in front of him, and firmly told himself he didn't feel guilty.

He didn't.

* * *

><p>John was only slightly surprised when Eden walked into the clinic. She'd seemed out of sorts since…well. She probably just didn't want to be alone, and John understood that. So with an easy smile and no questions, he put her to work.<p>

An hour later, after two head colds, a rash that was "almost" interesting but mostly gross, and four crying kids, John had Eden perched in a chair across from him, a cup of tea in hand, and an empty break room that was perfect for checking in with, were he being honest, one of his top two favorite persons.

John was NOT diagnosing her.

John knew, with the wry smile she shot him, that he hadn't fooled her either.

"How are you holding up?" He asked.

Eden frowned at her cup of tea, then forced a smile onto her face when she looked back up.

"Me? How are YOU doing?" John's brow furrowed, and he shrugged.

"Oh, I'm just fine." He forced a smile as well.

Eden waited him out, and he chuckled. "Not falling for that, then?"

"Try again." Her voice was rueful, and John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know Sherlock." He began. "I know how he is, and for the most part, I enjoy how he is. But this? The way he is with Moriarty? The silence, the brooding, the violin playing at all hours of the day that's only ever ominous sounding, the constant texting to who knows anymore, the pitying looks from Mycroft, from you-" Eden winced, and John broke off mid rant. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Eden answered automatically. "It's how you feel, which means it's important, and it's important to me."

John smiled, his shoulders relaxing. "Thank you." With less than a few sentences, and Eden had soothed him.

She shrugged. "For what? Sherlock's still acting weird, and Mycroft probably knows something you don't and-" Eden stopped.

John sipped his tea. "Thank you for…being here. For empathizing, I suppose." HE shrugged. "For caring."

Eden leaned forward, suddenly serious. She reached out a hand and John moved to clasp it. "John." She began. "I do care. Always will. Whether I'm around or not. Don't forget that, ok?"

John smiled nervously. "It sounds like you're going somewhere."

Eden took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. John let her hand go reluctantly. It was John's turn to wait her out.

After a few moments, she caught on, and a grudging smile pulled her lips upward. "My internship with Mycroft is over." She spoke bluntly.

John pursed his lips. "So it really was just an internship?" He asked, and Eden smiled, more genuinely this time.

"YES john, it was. But it's over now." Her eyes darted to the right, and she sighed. "I've business to attend to in America now, important business."

John frowned. "So you're leaving?"

Eden grimaced. "I know it's not the best timing, and if I could I'd probably never stop bugging you, but there are things, people in America that need my attention, and I've neglected them for far too long, and"

John stopped Eden's explanations with a raised hand. It was his turn to grimace. "No. I can't keep you trapped here forever, and I of all people understand duty. Will you be able to pop in?" He grinned at the underlying meaning at that statement, and Eden made a face.

"I would want to; but too often, and I would distract-" Eden trailed off, but John was nodding.

"I understand." He smiled a little sadly. "The second you have free time though, you stop in, alright?"

Eden nodded immediately. "I absolutely promise!" She spoke quickly. "The very moment." She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and pushed it towards John. "You can also ring me; any time, hours of the day."

John typed his number into her phone with a smile. "There for me even if you can't physically be there?"

Eden smiled warmly. "Exactly."

The two stood at the same time, and it was John who stepped around the table to embrace her. She hugged him tightly, sniffing audibly a few times before stepping back with a watery laugh.

"You're going now?" John assumed, and Eden nodded slowly.

"You be good now, you here?" She joked, and John smiled.

"Not on your life."

Eden laughed, and John grinned, and the two shared one last look before Eden glitched away.

* * *

><p>John sighed, heart heavy.<p>

6 months.

It had only taken six months for him to open his heart up to another person.

And America had stolen her away, even if only for a short time.

If America weren't so far away from Sherlock, John might even have considered a move.

But it was too far from Sherlock….and it had kidnapped Eden away from him.

Damn America.

* * *

><p>Eden was sitting in Sherlocks armchair when Sherlock himself had swept in from whatever pressing matter had kept him.<p>

It only took a glimpse of her, curled up and pensieve, to have Sherlock freezing in his tracks. He watched her for a few moments.

"You're leaving."

Eden didn't look up.

"I am."

Sherlock frowned. No further information?

"Why?"

Eden shrugged.

"I am no longer needed here."

"Bull."

Eden looked up at Sherlock, slightly shocked.

"Try again." He demanded.

Eden's lips tightened. "I have things to do in America that will-"

"You're lying."

Eden's nostrils flared and Sherlock crossed his arms.

"The truth this time, if you please."

Eden huffed, then gave up. "I'm a distraction, and at the very worst time. It's best that I remove myself."

Sherlock tilted his head. "This is because of The Incident?"

Eden said nothing, and for Sherlock, that was answer enough.

He would not try to dissuade her….in a way, she was right. But Sherlock; though it would be more fruitful for her to leave…she'd no longer be a distraction, and she'd be SAFE, Sherlock didn't want her to go.

"You are valuable to my needs." Sherlock spoke stiffly, and Eden shot him a disbelieving look.

Phrased awkwardly as it was…it was true. She was bright, asked riveting questions, soaked up his teaching, dealt wonderfully with his moods, apologized/explained for his odd behavior better than John at times, she was a wonder in having to deal with Mycroft, was a silent encouraging presence when no one else understood him, and she comforted John…which was a beautiful reason for her not to leave.

"John will need you."

Eden flinched…visibly flinched, as if Sherlock had hit her, and Sherlock paused.

Sherlock had used John as a tool to manipulate Eden into doing countless things she didn't want to, and she'd never before responded so negatively. A dawning notion had Sherlock's eyes narrowing.

"I will be here for John when he needs it." Eden's harsh reply, her use of the future tense, her cold gaze directed his way; all were confirmation of the hypothesis that had occurred to him just moments ago.

Sherlock's eyes widened, and Eden stood slowly.

"You know."

"Yes."

Sherlock appraised Eden more closely. Before this conversation, only 13 people had been aware. His parents, Molly, Mycroft, the homeless network he required assistance from, and now…her.

The only person who could've told her…was Mycroft.

"When I am needed," Eden spoke gruffly. "I will return. Until then, it is better that all distractions are removed." Eden nodded once. "It means we won't see each other for a while…it's best this way."

Sherlock frowned. "It is the second time that you have mentioned the word distraction. The very idea that you would somehow be a hindrance to this mission is laughable…indeed, you could only be helpful. Where did you get this horrid idea that you would be a distract-" Sherlock's eyes narrowed, and his lip curled.

Eden shook her head. "Don't Sherlock. I agree with him." She shrugged. "So do you."

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue…but knew that he couldn't. So instead… he simply nodded.

"You will be missed."

Eden rolled her eyes. "John has my number. I'll be here as soon as it's all over."

Sherlock had not been speaking of John. But admitting that would be admitting weakness…so he stayed silent.

Eden smiled. "Thank you Sherlock." And she glitched away.

Sherlock growled.

After all Eden had been through with them, the last six months, and she was chocked down only as a distraction?

Mycroft would be hearing from him.

But first….John would be upset. And Sherlock had been a bit…short with him lately.

He'd be home soon…Perhaps he could make him tea?

* * *

><p>Eden glitched to a park a few blocks from where she lived. She needed the walk….she needed to clear her head.<p>

London had been….interesting.

She'd learned so much more than she ever thought she would. Myc had been harsh, their last conversation, but she'd needed to hear it. He'd been right, and she'd been sentimental; she cared too much. It was a good thing that Mycroft didn't care at all; otherwise she might've stuck around, messed it all up.

It was hard to leave John, knowing that soon Sherlock would be leaving him too, and she had decisions to make regarding the older man she'd come to think off as a surrogate father, but he'd taken it well. And she would see him soon.

Sherlock….He had a death to make look real, an organization to take down, travel to do. He would be too busy to miss her, if he ever even thought of her at all. When he was done with all that, well, she'd see him THEN.

Till all of that went down…she really DID have things she wanted to do….open a medical center, go on more regular dates with her boyfriend, finish taking down Hydra, check in with Shield, Jane Foster, and all the rest….she definitely wouldn't be bored!

Besides….

It would be good to be just Charlie again….even if it was only for a little while.

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><p><strong>Epilogue on its way! <strong>

**Review/Follow/Favorite PRETTY PLEASE? **

**Love all of you very much!**

**~CLC~**


	11. The Funeral

**Epilogue for you!**

**This story was so fun to write! **

**I love you all so much!**

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.****

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><p>Charlie got the call on a Thursday night, in the middle of a movie with her roommates.<p>

She'd not done a good job of keeping track of the dates; and the phone call caught her by surprise. But the moment she heard his voice, she knew what had happened, and she knew she'd have to be Eden again, at least for a while.

"I hate to do this over the phone," John's voice had broken, and tears had immediately begun to fill Eden's eyes.

"Where are you? I'm coming right now."

An audible breath was heard over the phone, and then "St. Barts. 3rd floor break room."

Eden was standing in the doorway before John had finished speaking. John stared out the window, face void of any expression as he gazed out at the foggy London sky. Gone was the imposing figure he made, instead, he just looked…small. Tired. Every line of his body looked defeated, alone. Eden took a step forward into the room, and John turned around slowly to look at her. His eyes were filled with pain.

"Moriarty….He made…He made him….Sherlock." When a tear fell from John, Eden's lip began to tremble, and before she knew it she was embracing John, and he was weeping into her shoulder, and she was squeezing him tightly, her own tears falling.

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><p>No one came to disturb them. As the minutes turned into hours and the two eventually found themselves on the floor, John didn't once lose ahold of Eden. It took him nearly three hours to finally say the words, and that had only brought on a fresh wave of tears and sorrow. Eden held him through it all, never saying anything.<p>

"Sherlock Holmes…is Dead."

It took a little over a week to organize the funeral. Eden stayed in London that entire week, not even glitching home to sleep, instead sleeping nearby wherever John had fallen asleep himself, whether that be in Sherlock's chair, the couch, his own bed, or once, in the kitchen, both of them leaning against the cupboards.

John didn't speak much, and Eden had nothing to say.

Well…she had something to say, but the day she'd returned Mycroft had urged her not to say anything.

Eden wasn't sure how long she could stay silent, not being forced to watch John mourn every second of the day.

Nearly a week after she'd first returned to London, a few days before the funeral, She had called Mycroft while John was asleep, nearly in tears.

"You don't understand, Myc, you're not here, you can't see what it's doing to him. It's killing me, seeing him like this, and knowing, and I CAN'T Myc, it HURTS."

Mycroft had been silent at first. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, soothing.

"I cannot fathom how John must be feeling right now. But nothing can be said. The funeral needs to go on as planned, and the funeral is on SATURDAY. Two days, Eden."

"I KNOW when the funeral is, why are you telling me when and how far…." And Eden's eyes had widened and she'd hiccupped, and Mycroft had chuckled.

"Thank you, Myc."

"What for?" Mycroft asked lightly before he hung up, and Eden shook her head.

Two more days.

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><p>The funeral was a quiet, small affair. Eden had been surprised to bring two unplanned guests with her, but even then the group gathered together was small.<p>

Before the funeral had begun Eden had introduce John to the friends she'd brought, and John had become more alert when she introduced one of them as her boyfriend.

Eden bit her lip when John had tried to intimidate the man by using a strong grip, but had ended up wincing and massaging his own hand.

The introduction had seemed to lift his spirits somewhat, but then the entire procession began and he'd fallen silent once more.

At one point during the service Eden had looked around at the assembled group, and noticed Mycroft; who'd originally not planned on attending, standing near the back. With a squeeze of both John and her boyfriends hand, she slipped away to stand next to the somber figure.

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><p>"Didn't think you'd make it." She spoke lowly.<p>

Mycroft shrugged. "You'd have to have learned the news from somebody."

Eden raised a brow. "Who says I'm telling him anything?" She argued softly.

Mycroft huffed and Eden rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm going to tell him," she admitted. "But I'm telling him everything."

"Is that wise?" Mycroft asked gently, and Eden shrugged.

"I don't care if it's wise or not, I'm doing it. He deserves to know."

Mycroft nodded. "I don't disagree. But…He will be angry with you."

Eden winced, then nodded. "He has every right to be. But I'm not waiting any second longer than I have to."

Mycroft was silent. Eden felt a momentary pressure on her wrist, and she knew it was Mycroft's way of seeking physical comfort…perhaps the only way he knew how. So she took the initiative, and grabbed his hand. He clutched back tightly.

It didn't matter that they both knew it wasn't real…The feelings were real. And it hurt.

They stayed that way for the rest of the service.

When the service ended, John had bade her to head to the flat without him, that he would meet her there, and she agreed, knowing what would happen next would be necessary for his healing.

She introduced Mycroft to her boyfriend, who just shot the man a narrow eyed look which she'd punched him for. She'd given Mycroft a hug and he made her promise to get a hold of him should she ever need him, which she agreed to, and then Mycroft had looked often into the distance and remarked upon the loveliness of the….trees. Eden had made a confused face, and then Mycroft went on his way.

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><p>John had returned to the flat weary, but at peace, somewhat. When Eden had ushered him inside and told him she needed to talk to him, his hard-won peace started to shake. At her very first words, it shattered completely. It had taken four hours to comprehend the entire story she'd told him, her entire story, and it took three days to for John to speak to her again.<p>

John; once he'd thought it all out, understood where she was coming from, and even though the timeline couldn't be changed, her presence through the entire thing meant the world to him, and he couldn't stay mad at her.

He couldn't imagine having to go through all that on his own.

And while the knowledge made him furious, it was also a relief. He felt he could move on with his life, now that he knew everything. Maybe he would move out…out of the flat, maybe even out of London? At that point anything was possible. He could do whatever he wanted…he felt free.

Because Sherlock Holmes was alive.

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><p><em>HE LIIIIIVVVEEEESSSSS!<em>

_Did you really think Charlie was going to keep quiet about all that? _

_Try again. _

_PS: Moriarty really is dead. This is important for later stories. _

_For those of you who like my **Author's notes**, that'll be up probably Wednesday. That'll explain my thought process behind this story and more in depth what is coming up next in the GLITCH series...if you'd like to review a question, I'll do my best to answer it there! _

_For those who don't read my **Author's Notes**: There is a current story that follows the Glitch series, called **BUCKY** that you might want to check out, and the next story in this series is called...**Crowley's Revenge.** (Or Redemption, I haven't decided yet. Chapters one and two should be posted tonight.) _

_To those continuing with us on the Supernatural journey with Charlie/Kay/Eden/whatever nickname she uses next story, see you there! For those of us holding off or ending the journey here, Thank you. Thank you so much for your support and your patience and your encouragement. I could not have done this without you. _

_There is also another story beginning in February that Sherlock and John and Mycroft will be a part of; called **Charlie's Terrible Horrible**. If you decide to take a break and meet us back at that story, you could plausibly do that as well. _

_I love you all...I really do. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. _

_~CLC~_


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